


I'm Not Throwing Away My One-Shot

by orphan_account



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: A little bit of everything, AU, Arrow - Freeform, Canon Divergence, Does anyone actually read the tags, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Oliver and Felicity, Penelope AU, Romance, UST, angst with romance, floofy, more tags as I get prompts, olicity - Freeform, one shots, prompts, sports AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5967247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've written some things in the past for friends and decided to post them here. I like one-shots, though they tend to be long. If you have prompts, do the thing where you ask me. If I like it, I'll try it. This collection includes AU, weird crap, and other things that spew out my brain at 2 in the morning. Always Olicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snow Angels

This was for friends who were stuck in Secaucus, NJ during the HVFF and the snowmaggedon situation. It's weird, it's wonderful, it's Team Arrow dealing with Sara and Nyssa in full drugged mode. I hope you enjoy  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Felicity had come to appreciate the necessity of responding to emergencies quickly and with limited understanding of what to expect. Team Arrow had spent years jumping into situations, only to have those situations jump back. She felt like she had seen it all.

She had absolutely no idea how weird things could really get. Not until New Jersey.

When they had gotten the distress call from Sara, they hadn’t known why she was in New Jersey or what mission she was on. The call had been brief and had ended with howls of laughter, which was unusual in itself. Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she had heard Sara laugh. When they had landed, Felicity remembered why she had never ventured to Jersey when she had lived in Boston. There was no a whole lot to recommend it, and even fewer reasons to stay - save for the beeping dot that suggested Sara was nearby.

They had ordered a car. It was sleek, black, and Oliver drove it like they were being chased. She agreed with his worry. They knew even less than normal. And it was Sara. They had far too many close calls. Hurrying was their only course of action. She stared at the dot that represented Sara as snow started to swirl in the gusts of wind that had been constant since landing at the airport.

“This snow might make things tricky if we have to make a quick escape,” Oliver said, his shoulders hunched over as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“It’s going to get worse,” Felicity returned. “A lot worse. They’re calling for a foot, maybe more.”

Oliver’s response was to grunt. She rolled her eyes at him and tried to figure out a possible escape route that would get them out of the city if they needed to run in the middle of the snowstorm. Her hopes weren’t high. The snow was already sticking. In another hour, they would be stuck. She just hoped that things weren’t as terrible as her imagination lent them to be.

Thirty minutes later, she was just trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

They parked in a grey parking structure and hurried through the mostly empty streets, their chins tucked and their shoulders hunched to stave off the wind. Felicity’s entire body rattled and shook. She had not had time to pack properly. Oliver - the asshole he was - barely looked affected. He only held concern and a defensive preparedness she had seen hundreds of times before a fight. She didn’t know if his preparations to fight meant he didn’t feel the weather, or if the warmth he always radiated, was the cause. She just knew she envied him and his stupid ability not to feel cold.

He stayed close to her, helping her when the wind gusted particularly hard, but otherwise staying silent, trusting that her beacon would get them there. They were both confused, but trying not to show it. Where they were just…didn’t fit. It was a complex, full of hotels, restaurants, stores for babies, and movie theaters. It was exactly the sort of place Sara avoided at all costs.

They turned the corner and Felicity came to an abrupt stop, Oliver’s hand on her elbow the only thing that made him stop as well. She stared at the dot, then up at the building, then back down at the dot.

“What the what?” she asked into the howling wind.

“What’s the problem?” Oliver asked.

“She’s there,” Felicity said, pointing.

Oliver followed her finger and also frowned. In front of them, lit up like a tree in what she realized was now a fairly deserted area was a Carrabba’s. It was nothing special, nothing was on fire, and there were no armed soldiers shooting at anything that moved. The only thing she heard was the sound of laughter, music, and many voices raised in conversation.

“Is it a trap?” Felicity asked.

“Could be,” he said. She shivered against him and his hand snaked around her waist. “But I think we need to go inside either way. Staying out here is more dangerous.”

“Catching a cold versus catching a bad guy, dilemma of the day,” Felicity said.

“I think it’s safe,” he said.

“Based off what? Your Spidey senses?”

“Based off the lack of screaming,” Oliver said.

“Was that a joke? Did you make a joke?” Felicity asked.

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her.

“It was tooottallly funny,” she deadpanned.

His lips twitched upward, before his gaze returned to the building. He had already made up his mind, and she had decided long ago to trust him with every part of her. She knew that if it felt that something was off, he would make her safety a priority. He always did. Too, she was really fucking cold.

His arm still around her, warmth seeping through her flimsy jacket, they walked to the front of the building and into the packed restaurant. There were more people standing than sitting; the bar was packed and full of people talking, flirting, and complaining about the weather. Felicity heard enough from the others to know that some kind of comic book convention had been in one of the nearby convention centers. She perked up at the thought, but then remembered that they were on a super secret, super deadly mission to rescue their friendly, recently not-dead assassin.

Except that they weren’t.

A song started up, loud and familiar, and a girl jumped onto the bar, with the protestations of no one. She was gorgeous and radiant, and Felicity felt her jaw drop open as Sara started to lead the crowd in a singalong, even while she drank gin from the bottle and laughed when she messed up the lyrics. It was clear that the crowd was under her spell.

“Are we dead? Did we die?” Felicity asked, turning to stare at Oliver, who was staring wide-eyed at Sara. He didn’t reply. She didn’t blame him.

A second later, and more importantly, Nyssa jumped up on the bar. It was clear that she didn’t know any of the words, but she could dance, and she was more than willing to dance a whole lot. Felicity felt her shock fade to glee. She might not understand exactly what was happening, but she was absolutely not going to let this moment pass without recording it. She was one of the smartest people on the planet, after all. She raised her phone and was proud that she managed to keep the camera so steady around her laughing.

“I think they might be okay,” she said.

“I think they might be drugged,” Oliver returned.

That sobered her up. She stopped recording as Nyssa jumped off the bar and pulled Sara with her. There was a lot of cheering and people yelling drunkenly in response. A couple of thuds followed the yells, which were then immediately followed by hasty apologies.

Oliver pulled Felicity after him, ignoring the harried hostess who asked if they wanted to make a reservation, and zeroed in on their friends.

“Sara!” Oliver called.

Sara turned, pushed several men, who by the crowds around them seemed to be famous, out of her way, and then jumped into Felicity’s arms. She hugged her tightly, nearly suffocating her.

“Here they are! I knew you’d come! The heroes who can’t help themselves. Sunshine and guilty boy!”

“Guilty boy?” Oliver demanded.

“Have you been drugged?” Felicity asked into Sara’s ear.

Nyssa heard the question. Probably her ninja training at work. “It was a drug that lowers inhibitions and creates euphoria in its users. It is not deadly. It was, however, deadly to the man who poisoned us with it.”

“Why were you chasing a drug dealer?” Felicity asked.

“Not a drug dealer. A human smuggler, specializing in young women,” Sara said. “Used the drugs to make his victims pliable. He’s at the bottom of the river. It’s totally cool. Dance with me!”

Sara started rocking Felicity back and forth, making Felicity stumble a bit as Sara swung her around the packed space. Felicity started laughing as Oliver came to her rescue. He gently pried Sara away from Felicity and looked around the restaurant.

“Maybe we should get a hotel and you two can sleep it off.”

“Oh, Ollie, I thought getting with the love of your life would make you less of a stick in the mud,” Sara pouted.

“My love would like to dance,” Nyssa added. “Unless you wish to see my blade, you will let her.”

Felicity thought that entirely threat Nyssa - a mixture of romance and bloodletting. Even drugged, she was deadly. Felicity put her hand on Oliver’s arm and looked up at him with that look, the one she had perfected with him that meant she got her way.

“They’re not hurting anyone, and I need the blackmail. Let them dance…or whatever, and I’ll record it for later. If they get out of hand, you can get into a fight then.”

Oliver rubbed his forehead, as though considering every single mistake that had led him to this very moment. She fought the urge to laugh. Her lips twitched as she continued to look up at him with puppy dog eyes. He glanced over at her and she knew that she had won.

Silently, he guided her over to the bar. Two places opened up for them nearly instantly, the perks of dating a man whose glare had quelled hardened criminals and she ordered a glass of wine and watched the crazy, excited joy that surrounded her.

Outside, the snow continued to swirl. It built up; it created mountains out of parked cars and buildings. It was a full-on blizzard, and she knew, even if Oliver didn’t realize it yet, that they would be staying for a couple more days at least. The crowd ebbed and flowed, but Sara, and by default Nyssa, stayed in the action, interacting with everyone, being joyful, and Felicity recorded as much of it as possible.

Nyssa kept going outside to play in the snow. Felicity found that particularly hilarious. Oliver followed her out each time. The second time he came back in a huff, wet spots all over his clothes.

“What?” Felicity asked.

“She’s trying to start a snowball fight,” Oliver said. “She called me…” His ears reddened. “She curses colorfully when she doesn’t get her way.”

“Oh! Snowball fight!” Felicity said eagerly.

This caught the attention of Sara, who immediately organized the entire Carrabba’s into sides, and took everyone outside. That was how Felicity ended up shoulder to shoulder with Oliver throwing snowballs in the freezing cold, while the wind howled around them.

The fourth time Nyssa went outside, Oliver decided to give up trying to monitor her with a huff. He rolled his eyes as he accepted his glass of wine from Felicity. Felicity grinned at him until he spilled the truth.

“She’s tackling people and making them stay until they make snow angels with her,” he told her.

Felicity burst out laughing.

Finally, Nyssa and Sara got tired. It took until midnight and the Carrabba’s employees nearly sobbing as they asked them to leave. Oliver and Felicity took them to the hotel attached to the restaurant, checked them in, made sure that they were safely in their room before going to theirs, and then collapsed on the bed.

“I hate my friends,” Oliver said.

“They make things interesting,” Felicity said.

“Mmm,” he agreed.

“You know we’re not leaving tomorrow?” Felicity asked. “This isn’t stopping.” She waved at the dirty window, which was darkened by the snow. The gusting wind rattled it every few seconds and the trucks that were scraping the roads rolled by every minute or so.

He grunted.

“You do know what snowstorms are good for, though, right?”

He frowned and turned to look at her, looking far too sexy in the dim light for any one man. It still startled her sometimes that he was hers, that she could look at him however she wanted, whenever she wanted. “No,” he replied, a small crinkle in his brow.

“Sex. A lot of it,” she said. She shrugged. “I mean, what else are you gonna do?”

His smile was languid and full of laughter as he reached around her and pulled her tight against his body. “I like the way you think,” he said.

“That’s why you love me,” she replied, inching her lips closer to his. “My brain.”

“It’s a very sexy brain,” he said.

She giggled as her lips finally landed on his. The snowstorm, and all the chaos that belonged to it, faded away as their focus narrowed to each other and the space between them. Across the hall, Sara and Nyssa were learning the benefits of a snowstorm as well.


	2. Cursed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope AU featuring Felicity Smoak as Penelope. A birthday present for @geniewithwifi. Thanks for reading.

It wasn’t the most imaginative thing in a world. Which was a shame. If Felicity Smoak had perfected anything in the past twenty-one years of life, it was her imagination. Books and songs were her friends. They were the voices that told her everything was okay and to dream beyond the mansion she had never seen the other side of until today. **  
**

She had threatened running away numerous times, but she had never meant it before. She hadn’t meant it until she had seen fifteen men, boys, really, flee from the sight of her. She was used to the suitors her mother pushed at her reacting violently, and with little regard to her feelings or their physical safety, but being screamed at by fifteen men who were supposed to potentially marry her and break the curse that had been with her since birth was her limit. She wasn’t going to do it anymore. She wasn’t going to put up with another suitor. It was hopeless, and she was tired of being hidden away like she was this terrible monster from one of her stories. She didn’t feel like a monster. She just felt like a girl in need of seeing the world.

So that was exactly what she was going to do.

Sneaking out wasn’t a problem. She had been planning it since she was seven. She knew all the paths to take, what cameras to avoid, how to keep the alarms from alerting, and how the staff and her parents spent their evenings. She was on the other side of the gate before she really knew what she was doing. She paused when she reached the top of the massive hill that had always tempted her mind with what ifs and stared in wonder at the city beyond the horizon.

It was bright and full of life, despite the fact that the night hung low around the buildings. A bright moon, vibrant and nearly touching the buildings it looked over, had her stomach swirling with anticipation. Not a single one of her stories had prepared her for the reality, for the fear and the unknown that awaited her. She all but ran down the hill, her heart pounding with excitement as much as from fear.

When she reached the first row of buildings, she inhaled deeply and paused. She carefully, oh so carefully, made sure that the scarf that covered the lower portion of her face was still in place. She had been screamed at enough for one day, thank you very much.

Certain that no one could see the source of her curse, she more confidently walked into the city, and almost got hit by a car.

“Hey!” she cried.

The driver honked his horn at her. She moved to the sidewalk, and he blared past her aggressively.

“Rude!”

Undeterred, she continued on her path, feeling joy, eagerness, and the need for a new beginning bubble out of her.

She was happy right until the moment she walked into an alley that connected one street from the other.

A group of men were lingering, smoking cigarettes and casually robbing anyone stupid enough to walk down the alley. They spotted her at the same time she spotted them. She may have been naive, but no one could accuse Felicity of being stupid. She turned on her heels and hurried away. The men, unaccustomed to having anyone escape them, gave chase. She started walking faster. So did they. Her fast walk turned into a strange loping jog, her hand moving to keep the scarf in place while she ran. The men were gaining on her. Passersby looked on without helping, and she realized that maybe she was in a part of town where this was a common occurrence.

She started running faster, determined to get away from the men and this not-so-nice area before her entire plan of exploring the city was ruined. She spotted a motorcycle, small but idling just ahead. She didn’t see a driver, but it didn’t matter. She figured she could drive one without too much hassle, and she would return it once she was no longer being chased. She jumped onto the bike and immediately felt lost. She had no idea what she was doing. But she did know machines and technology, and she had tinkered around with engines enough to understand the basics. She leaned forward and twisted the handle. The bike shot forward and she struggled to maintain her balance. The bike wobbled and threatened to topple over onto the street.

She looked over her shoulder fearfully as the group of men were met on the sidewalk by another man. He was broad and tall, his frame looking even thicker with the winter coat he had on against the elements. A knitted hat covered his head, and motorcycle boots kept his feet warm and ready for business. The men slowed when they saw him, their faces losing their malicious light. Cautiousness replaced it. They had a brief conversation, where the men decided to turn back, and then the tall man turned and chased after her. She whipped her head back around and focused on keeping the bike on the road long enough to get away.

The man caught up to her quickly. He ran next to the bike as easily as she would have read a book. He was so casual, so calm as he jogged without even breaking a sweat.

“Hi,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Hello,” she replied.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m running away from those men,” she told him, still looking straight ahead as she focused on keeping the bike out of the ditch.

“You’re not doing a very good job of it,” he said.

“I’m certain I am,” she replied, touching her scarf nervously as his very blue eyes took her in with a dim twinkle that warmed her to her toes.

“Uh-huh,” he replied. He looked over her shoulder. “You do know you’re going 5 miles per hour, right?”

“Seeing how this is my first time on this…thing, I’m taking that as a win,” she replied.

“I suppose it’s important to have a victory,” he added conversationally.

“Yep,” she agreed.

“You know…if you stop, I could take you wherever you want to go and I won’t have to call the cops and get embarrassed about a woman making the slowest theft of my bike in the history of thefts.”

“I don’t know you, though,” she said, feeling like trusting strangers was something her mother would accuse her of in the same breath that she pointed out her naivety.

“That’s very true,” he said, sounding like he was holding back laughter. She couldn’t be sure. She didn’t want to look at him again and crash his motorcycle. “I suppose you’re just going to have to trust me.”

His words echoed deep within her, bouncing off the walls of her heart and her soul, urging her to make another leap for the second time that night. She could be like her mother, bitter, scared, and afraid that the world would hurt her, or she could trust in this man who was being patient, kind, and taking the entire situation in stride. She slowed the bike and then came to a wobbly stop. He braced the bike, ensuring that she didn’t fall, and she leaned back to give him room. He was just so….there. She liked the way he felt near her more than she had liked any of her previous suitors that her mother had picked out. Maybe it was because this meeting wasn’t arranged. Maybe it was because she knew she would never see him again. Either way, she was enjoying herself and determined to make the most of his nearness.

“Scoot back,” he told her.

She obliged, and he carefully climbed onto the front. He revved the engine once, then turned just enough to look at her over his shoulder.

“Hold on to me tight,” he said.

Her eyebrows lifted and a small smile split her face, though she knew he couldn’t see it. The scarf was a good barrier. She wrapped her arms around his middle and inched closer to him, hoping that she didn’t get flung off the second he decided to go. He made sure she had a good grip on him before he leaned forward slightly and hit the gas. They shot away from the spot like a bullet and she clutched him even tighter. It took her a minute around her surprise and fear to notice the way the city slipped past her as they drove, how the lights danced and sparkled, and how the people continued on despite the cold and the wind. It was beautiful.

“Where you headed?” he asked.

“Um…”

“You’re pretty new to the city, huh?” he asked, when it was clear that she had no idea.

“Just arrived,” she said.

“I’ll take you to a hotel I know. The owner is a friend. Is that okay?”

“Yes. Okay. Definitely okay,” she said gratefully.

They were quiet then as he drove her through the stop and start traffic of the city that didn’t seem to be quieting even as the hours darkened the night even more. The buildings went from nearly shabby to brighter and full of flashing lights. Those buildings faded, too, until they were in a part of town that looked older but well-kept, like it was a place the locals violently protected from the tourists that belonged to the neon lights. He finally pulled the bike along the curb and cut the engine. She kept her face pressed against his back and her arms wrapped around him until he gently tapped her arm. She startled at the gentle touch and dropped her hands with a blush.

“Slide off first. Keeps the bike from tipping,” he told her.

“Oh. Right. Of course,” she said.

She got off, feeling proud that she didn’t trip once, and hovered on the sidewalk awkwardly. It was her first interaction with a man nearly her age that didn’t include sobbing, screaming, or throwing up. She knew it would be very different if he saw her face in its entirety.

He slid off the bike and joined her on the sidewalk. He pointed at the brick building just over her shoulder. It was a squat structure with a lot of windows and three levels above the main that suggested it was a bar. The name above the door read: West’s.

“Iris should be at the bar. Tell her I sent you.”

“Tell her a random man whose bike I stole sent me?” she asked archly.

He huffed a laugh, which she assumed from his reaction was a rarity, and shook his head in exasperation. He held out his hand. “Oliver.”

She took the hand and pumped it once, another smile he couldn’t see breaking across her face. “Felicity.”

His eyes narrowed, and then returned to normal a second later. It was a quick reaction, one she didn’t get to dwell on long. “You know what? I’ll tell her myself. Come on.”

He walked past her and to the building without another word. She stared after him, trying to follow his shifting moods. She finally shrugged and followed after him, her heart humming with the fact that she had potentially made a friend, even if that friend had been made mid-theft.

The interior of the bar consisted of light-colored bricks on the walls, dark mahogany on the tables and bar, and various sports teams playing on the large televisions. It wasn’t exceptionally crowded, but there were enough people inside to make Felicity think the place never struggled for business.

A brunette girl near Felicity’s age stood at the bar, serving drinks and talking to a group. She was all smiles and cheer. At the other end of the bar was a blonde woman, who had twisted, messy hair that held blue and purple in between the blonde, dark lipstick, and a leather jacket. Both of them were exceptionally pretty and clearly had all the confidence and poise that Felicity lacked. Oliver sat at the far end of the bar near the door, a tension within him that wasn’t there outside, and she sat with him. She brushed his shoulder unintentionally as she sat and she watched as the rigidity faded to curiosity.

“So…what exactly were you doing in that part of town at this time of night wearing such colorful things?”

“What's wrong with wearing colorful things?"

“It gets you noticed,” he said. “Particularly in that area.”

“You know, I noticed some people noticing me,” she replied.

The smile was in his eyes this time. “I noticed it, too,” he said. The twinkling brightness left his face and he looked at her more seriously. “Promise me that you won’t go wandering around at night like that again. The city can be dangerous.”

“I promise. No more wandering,” she agreed quickly.

“Oliver! The usual?” the brunette woman Felicity had first noticed asked, leaving the group she had been chatting with to watch the game. She leaned against the bar casually and threw a wink at Felicity in a greeting.

Oliver glanced over at Felicity, then looked at his hands, before finally looking at the woman. “Yeah.”

“What’ll you have, sweetheart?” the woman asked.

“Uh…” Felicity hesitated.

“Felicity, this is Iris. Iris, this is Felicity, a complete novice to the city and clearly in need of a beer and a safe place to spend the night,” Oliver said.

“Well, you are in luck,” Iris said. “I can provide you both those things at a reasonable cost.”

Felicity felt herself brighten. She didn’t know what luck had brought her to stealing Oliver’s motorcycle, but it was clearly some of the best. She could sense in Iris a kindness and a loving personality that instantly made her feel safe.

“Thanks!” Felicity said.

Iris winked at her again and moved away to get their beers as Oliver turned back to her. “So where are you from?” he asked.

“Not too far away,” she replied carefully. “You?”

“Here,” he replied instantly. “My whole life. Save for a small little stretch.”

“How small a stretch?” she asked.

“About four years,” he said.

“Where’d you go?”

“That is classified,” he said lightly, though there was no humor in his face. The darkness that had crept in told her that his past was not necessarily a thing of light. She was more than willing to allow him his past. There was no way on earth she was going to go into hers. Everyone had their thing they didn't like to share.

“Did you know that the cereus flower only blooms one night a year?” Felicity asked.

“No, I did not,” Oliver replied.

“Mmm. They do! They unfurl slowly, and only at night. They’re known for their heady scent, but you can only experience it once a year. Then they wilt. I feel like tonight I’m a cereus. Tomorrow, I wilt. But isn’t it sort of worth it? Even if you only bloom once, isn’t it worth the wait, worth the wonder?”

He stared at her for a minute - a minute in which Iris set down their beers and Felicity stared at her drink, wondering how on earth she was going to manage enjoying it without the bar seeing her nose and descending into chaos.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” he said.

Felicity barely heard him. She was still staring at her beer. She could lift her scarf, but didn’t that put her at risk of being seen? How odd would it look if she asked for a straw? Oliver and Iris seemed like patient people, but they would definitely find her weird if she kept her scarf on. It was a problem she had not considered until now.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like beer?” Iris asked, noticing Felicity’s expression.

“It’s just that…Do you think…? Can I get a straw?” Felicity asked.

Iris’ eyebrows lifted at the question and she looked at Oliver, as if to silently ask, “Who is this person?” Oliver shrugged, clearly unperturbed, and Iris reached under the bar for a straw. It was blue and white and had just the right amount of bend. Happily, Felicity stuck it into her beer and maneuvered it under her scarf. She took a long sip and then hummed pleasantly at the taste of her very first beer.

The rest of the night got a little blurry after that. She remembered singing, though she can’t remember exactly why, and she remembered the blonde girl, Sara, laughing so hard that she ended up crying and falling off her stool. She remembered Iris chasing out the rest of the customers at closing time and the four of them sitting at the bar and talking about their childhoods - though Felicity did not talk about hers. It was a tale far too lonely and sad to share with anyone. Oliver, Iris, and Sara had known each other since forever. It sent a longing through Felicity that was as familiar as her curse. Friends had always been an impossibility. She desperately wanted the connection they all seemed to have. She was aware that it would never really be possible. Her scarf was not the only barrier she had to keep intact between them. They would not sit and tell her stories if they could see her face. It was hideous and brutally unnatural. Her entire life everyone she ever knew had always said the same thing.

The last thing she remembered was falling asleep at the table, and then the sensation of being carried. She woke up the next morning with a start in a room that was full of white bedding, white curtains, and a large window that let in the winter light. She groaned when she touched her forehead, her entire head pounding viciously, and then realized with a fierce jerk of her body that she had not walked up to the room on her own. She touched her scarf fearfully and realized that it was still in place. She sighed in relief that the others had not seen her and rolled out of bed. Her mood improved as she looked out at the city through the window. She decided she was going to begin her first day on her own with some more exploring and definitely some shopping. She couldn’t keep wearing the same thing. People would talk more than they were already bound to around her need to wear her scarf. She wanted a new wardrobe for the new her. Beginnings always needed new shoes.

The second she hit the bar downstairs, she saw Sara and Iris standing at the bar. They stopped talking and welcomed her over with broad smiles and mischievous sparkles in their eyes.

“Hey, Adele,” Sara said. “Are you still looking for someone like me?”

A flash of singing that song last night hit her and Felicity put her face into her hands with a groan. “Kill me now.”

“And never be serenaded again? Absolutely not!” Sara replied.

“Sit,” Iris said, gesturing to the bar. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Oh no. You don’t have to do that,” Felicity said.

“Sit,” Iris said sternly.

Felicity sat.

They talked, laughed, and Felicity slowly woke up around her hangover as they ate breakfast. Felicity told them about her plans to go shopping and Iris immediately perked up at the idea. Sara shrugged indifferently and offered to watch the bar so that Iris could go with Felicity. It was decided with a lot of eagerness on Iris' part, and they left together. With Felicity’s mother’s credit cards in hand, Iris took her to all of the best stores, with all of the best dresses, and Felicity shopped her way through a new style that fit her, had nothing to do with Donna, and made her feel confident in the first time in forever. Iris helped her with her bags up to her room with cheerful conversation and encouraging words, and Felicity realized she hadn’t paid for her room. She gave her card to Iris and told her to charge whatever she needed on it. Iris winked, took the card, and that was that.

Neither of them mentioned Oliver all day, though Felicity was very curious and very eager to learn more about him. Every time she felt the curiosity bubble up, she stomped it down, knowing that no good could come from it. He was handsome, normal, and definitely not interested in someone like her. That was okay by her. She didn’t need a silly crush to complicate things. She was in the city for herself, to see who she was without the curse defining every second of her life, and without Donna desperate to find her a husband to take it all away. She wanted to know who she was and what she could be on her own. That mattered far more than gratefulness to a man who had saved her from so much pain.

Two days passed before her mother caught up to her. Felicity had just gotten back from another sightseeing trip around the city when she saw Donna at the bar with Mr. Diggle and Detective Quentin Lance, a family friend. She ducked under the window automatically, her eyes wide, and tried to figure out how they had found her. Then it hit her - the credit cards. They had tracked her spending. She swore internally and tried to figure out what she would do. She hated to leave Iris and Sara, but she hated the idea of going back more. Every day away from her mother was a lesson in confidence and strength. She would lose all of that if she gave up now. She took a deep breath and pushed away from the wall. She hurried down the street, feeling a little lost at no longer being able to stay with Iris, but more determined than ever.

She walked until she came upon a park that had a lonely bench at the top of a hill. It overlooked a broad river and was under a huge tree whose branches stretched overhead in jagged bends and folds. She sat with a sigh and stared at the river forlornly. A cool breeze made the tree groan and sigh, a mocking tribute to the pain in her chest.

She had been sitting there an hour when she noticed a man running along the path that meandered along with the river. She knew the shape immediately. Her eyes widened, and then she slowly sank down on the bench, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. She had changed her wardrobe - she had moved away from pants that had been her attempt to be nothing like her mother and now wore dresses, but she had not given up her bright colors. She stuck out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of grey, scudding clouds, brown trees, and winter-locked grass. She was a beacon among the gloom and she knew he would notice.

Oliver caught sight of her five seconds later. He stumbled a bit, then caught himself, and headed towards her with a soft look on his stupidly handsome face. Her brain turned into a litany of curse words. When he stopped in front of her, he smiled, and the curse words turned into words of surprise, and butterflies filled her stomach.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” she replied.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows crinkling in concern.

“If I said yes would you believe me?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then, yes,” she said.

He sat next to her, his knees angled towards her and his expression full of worry. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” She sighed. “I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said. It was nearly like he was disappointed that she didn’t trust him. Lord, she trusted him. Way too much than was normal.

“My mother is...overbearing is being nice about it,” Felicity said. “She’s never let me…travel. So I ran away to see the city, and maybe stole her credit cards in order to do it.”

“Thief,” he said warmly, his eyes crinkling pleasantly around the edges as he smiled.

“Mmmm,” she agreed. “She found me at Iris’ today. I ran away before she saw me, but now I have nowhere to stay, Iris will be mad at me, and I was just becoming friends with both her and Sara, and I…” She felt the tears trickling out of the corners of her eyes. They slid down and hit the polka dot scarf she had wrapped around her face.

Oliver very slowly, nearly rigidly, reached out and took her face into his hands. He wiped away her tears gently and the gentle thump, thump, thump of her heart turned into a raging beast. She stared into his blue eyes, unable to look away or think around the fact that he was touching her and that he looked so concerned for her well-being.

“Iris likes you,” Oliver comforted her. “So does Sara. They’ll help you out. All you have to do is ask.”

“I can’t go back! My mother will be waiting!” she said.

“We’ll figure it out,” Oliver said. “I promise.”

He pulled his phone out, which was an older model that hurt Felicity to her soul and made her itch to take it apart and improve it, and sent a quick text. She hated that the movement meant he stopped touching her, but she was also glad. He was confusing. Everything about him made her think things she shouldn't think.

“You sort have a hero complex, huh?” Felicity teased him.

“It’s better than being a thief,” he said.

“Maybe,” she said dubiously.

“Come on,” he urged her, holding out his hand to help her stand.

She took the hand and he gently tugged her back towards the city and away from the park. They talked on the way, Oliver more than her. He seemed lighter, like he was trying to keep her entertained and distracted. He made her laugh; he made her think. They teased each other, and she felt her heart threatening to wobble off its axis every time she managed to get that huff of laughter from him. When they got back to Iris’s bar, Oliver made her wait in the alley while he went inside. When he came back, it was with a look of complete peace.

“It’s safe, come on,” he said. He took her hand again and pulled her inside.

Her mother was gone, as were Diggle and Lance, and the bar was full with its dinner crowd. Sara and Iris were busy tending to customers, but both stopped to share a look when they saw Felicity. Felicity nervously approached the bar, and Iris reached out to take the hand that Oliver wasn’t still holding.

“You okay?” Iris asked.

Felicity nodded.

“Listen, I can’t talk now, but you still have a room if you want one. Maybe you could help me out here or something to pay for it…We’ll figure it out, okay?” Iris added.

Felicity felt like crying again, but she merely nodded and squeezed Iris’s hand tightly. Iris smiled softly, compassionately, and then hurried to serve another customer their meal. She sighed in relief and struggled not to let her hope and happiness overwhelm her and send her into another crying fit. She was overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of the people who had accepted her. Oliver tugged on her hand to get her attention, and then silently gestured with his chin to the stairs, a silent request to go up. She nodded, and he walked her all the way up to her room.

She sat on the bed as he closed the door behind him. “Thank you for being so nice to me,” she said.

“Always,” he replied.

“You’re a good friend,” she said.

A flash of…something crossed his face. Something about her words irritated him, but the moment didn’t linger. “I will make sure that you don’t have to go back unless you want to,” he promised.

“Thank you,” she replied.

From that day forward, Oliver, Iris, and Sara were fixtures in her life. They were protective of her; they were friends without fail, without reservation. They never mentioned her mother, or the scarf that covered her face, or the fact that she was so very naive about so many things. They talked to her, they made her laugh, they shared joy in the brightness she brought to their group.

A day after the near miss with her mother, Felicity started working at the bar.

A few days after that, Iris realized Felicity’s proclivity for electronics. She fixed the system when it crashed, and, suddenly, customers started paying her to fix their computers, phones, and watches. She had never been happier about her countless hours spent learning about computers than in the moment she realized she could help people with her skills. It gave her purpose that tinkering around never had. It had been a hobby at her house, one her mother had impatiently allowed. Now, it was something that gave her a sense of accomplishment and pride. She was good at something. She was better than good. She had more customers than she had hours in the day.

Without fail, Oliver came to the bar at least once a day, sometimes more. He always talked to her, always gave her his full attention whenever she spoke. His attention never wavered, his intensity always at the highest setting. She felt herself falling, felt the regret that he would never stay if he say her face, and knew that of all the things that had happened to her, not being able to have him love her was the one she would regret the most. But she pinned in silence, fell in love in silence, learned the man behind the mask in silence, and kept wishing that he was the one who could break her curse forever. She knew he couldn’t. He wasn’t blue blood - only someone with blue blood could take away the monster that she was and make her normal again.

Three months later, she had found a routine, a way of being that she had never imagined at her mother’s house. It didn’t mean she was entirely happy about everything. She stood from her bed and looked in the mirror, unburdened by her scarf in a way she could not be in public. She didn’t know what she would do when it go hot. She would look weird, all bundled up in a scarf, but she didn’t know what else she could do. The world would loathe her if it knew the truth. They had no reason not to. She was a monster. She took in her appearance, staring at the nose that had been her curse since the day she was born. It was a pig snout, no doubt about it. It was grotesque, awful. It meant that she couldn’t be with her friends in the light of day. It meant that Oliver would never really see her. And if he did, it meant that she would have her heart broken completely. He would be repulsed. He would look at her like the monster she was. She sighed unhappily. She loved her life now, but she wished so hard that she didn’t have to hide. It was beginning to wear on her.

There was a sharp knock on the door as she stared at the mirror and jumped violently. She looked around in a panic, wondering where her scarf had gone. She didn’t see it on the bedside table, and she didn’t see it on the chair she typically dumped her jacket.

“Just a minute!” she called back.

The door started to open. She squealed in alarm and dove for the bed. She frantically pulled the covers over her body and whimpered at the ridiculousness of the situation even as she committed to hiding.

“Felicity?”

She groaned louder. Of course it had to be Oliver. Of course.

“Felicity? Are you okay?”

She sensed him at the foot of her bed. She refused to acknowledge how weird she was being, though it was fairly obvious. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“Why are you hiding under the blankets?” he asked.

“It’s warm in here,” she replied.

She could nearly feel his confusion.

“Felicity?” he asked quietly, in the tone she had come to think of as hers.

“Do you ever feel like a monster?” Felicity asked.

The pause that followed this was long and restrictive. She lowered the blanket just enough so that she could peek out and saw that he was staring at the ground, a different, bleak tension in his body. When he looked at her, she gasped at the pain she saw in his eyes.

“Yes,” he said. He took a step closer to her. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but, Felicity, I can guarantee you that you are not a monster. I’ve seen monsters, I’ve been one, and you are just…not. You're the best person I’ve ever met. You’re the farthest thing from the darkness that I’ve ever seen. Please don’t think that. Please.”

He was begging, pleading, and she felt her heart breaking. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

“I know it,” he replied firmly. “Because I know you.”

“If you knew the truth…”

“Do you think I’m a monster?” Oliver asked.

“What?! No!” Felicity scoffed. “You’re a hero. My hero.”

She bit her lips as the words escaped, but there was no taking them back.

“And why is that?” he pressed.

She was about to retort, when she realized his point. She knew he was good. The darkness she saw in him sometimes could never erase what she knew to be true. He was a good man, someone who cared and looked out for others. He didn’t rescue her to get anything in return. It was simply part of who he was and who he would always be.

“Oliver…” she whispered, her heart in her throat.

He sat next to her on the bed and looked down at her with an amused sparkle in his eyes. “You look ridiculous all cocooned like that.”

“Your face looks ridiculous,” she retorted, feeling like the biggest liar in the world. His face was nearly magical. She hated how perfect it was. It made her all the more aware of how hers looked.

He rolled his eyes at her and lightly tugged on the blanket. “Come on, we have to go. The show in the park, remember?”

She ignored his attempt to bring them back to a place of normalcy. She would have appreciated it any other day, but his words lingered. “You really don’t think I’m a monster?” she whispered.

The lightness fell away quickly. He stared at her earnestly. “No. Nothing on earth could make me think that.”

She took a deep breath and sat up a little, bringing the blanket with her. “What if I told you that I was cursed?”

“Cursed how?”

“To look like a pig,” she said so quietly she was surprised he heard her.

“Then I would say that I would very much like to hunt down the person who cursed you and make them pay.”

“But…”

“That’s on them,” Oliver said. “If you really are cursed, then I can’t see a scenario where you did anything to deserve it.”

“You believe me so easily?” she asked incredulously.

“I have no reason to doubt you,” he returned just as quickly. “Is that why you hide away? Because of someone else’s curse on you?”

“I’m ugly,” she said. “Everyone I’ve ever met has been terrified…has run away from me. Even my mother…” Felicity sighed. “I know what I am. I like the things I can do, the books I’ve read, the music I’ve learned to play, and the knowledge I’ve cultivated, but this,” she gestured at her face, “is something I cannot change.”

“I like who you are, too,” Oliver said softly.

Tentatively, nearly shyly, he reached out and put his hand on the blanket that was her current shield between her and the world. She stared at him, terrified and afraid that he would be like all the others. But he wasn’t. He had never treated her unkindly. If she was going to trust anyone, it was him. Even if he wasn’t attracted to her, even if he couldn’t be with someone who looked like she did, he would never run. He was too kind for that.

She released the blanket, a trust fall in its own right, and he carefully slid it down her face. She kept her eyes locked on his face, waiting with baited breath for the disgust. He let his linger on her eyes for a moment, then he looked down. There was no flicker of fear, loathing, or even disgust. He simply looked down, then looked back up.

“There you are,” he said, a small, genuine smile breaking across his face.

Tears were welling in her eyes and her heart was racing. How could he accept her so easily? How could he see her and not find her repulsive? He saw the tears and, like so many months ago at the park, he took her face in his hands and gently wiped them away. Unlike the park, he did not let go. He glanced down again, this time at her lips, and her heart started racing for another reason. Was he really going to kiss her? Could it be that after all these months of pining, he felt the same way? Could such a miracle exist?

He answered her question with a firm kiss that told her that the answer was an unequivocal yes. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and willing it never to end. When he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, she pouted. He laughed at her, and then gave her another quick peck.

“Come on. We’re going to be late for the park. Iris and Sara were already on their way.”

She was still spinning, still thrown off balance by the turn of events. To him, the entire thing was normal, expected, natural. He was nothing like the others. She didn’t know what to make of it. She only knew that he made her feel pretty. He made her feel like that things that made her unique were the things that made her beautiful.

“Yeah…I just need to get ready,” she said in a daze.

He nodded. “I’ll meet you downstairs?”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

He kissed her lightly again, lingering in a way that made her warm all over, and then smiled at her before turning away and leaving her to the room. She sat for a full minute staring into nothing and trying to wrap her mind around the strange delight her day had taken. Then she laughed and got ready, throwing on her scarf last. Oliver wrinkled his nose when he saw it, but she knew he understood her reasons. He took her hand immediately, a dorky smile gracing his face at the touch, and they walked to the park, their conversation and their laughter making her forget everything that wasn't him.

The park was crowded, warm, and just a little bit stifling. Spring was inching in and today was the hottest it had been in months. They joined Sara and Iris, sitting on the checkered blanket and accepting the beers Iris had brought. Felicity’s already had a straw in it. She smiled contentedly, even Iris and Sara started teasing her about the fact that neither she had not stopped holding hands with Oliver.

Everything was fine right up until Oliver left to go to the bathroom, the show well under way, and Felicity began to feel the heat pounding against her. Her scarf and jacket were weighing her down. The heat was hammering against her. She couldn’t breathe. She felt like she was being suffocated. She needed to take off the scarf, but she knew she couldn’t. Oliver may have accepted her, but the rest of the world was not so kind. He was the exception, always the exception.

But she didn’t have a choice in the matter. She felt everything tilt, and then she was on the ground and Iris and Sara were hovering above her.

“She can’t breathe!” Sara said.

“We can’t just-”

“I’m taking it off,” Sara said. “She can’t breathe!"

Felicity felt her scarf being lowered, then heard gasps, followed by the sounds of people taking pictures. Her eyes fluttered open in a panic and she realized what had happened with a jolt of terror. She touched her face, then looked up at Iris and Sara. They were openly staring. Sara’s mouth was hanging open. Iris looked like she was having trouble processing. Felicity jumped up, being swarmed by people with cameras instantly, and started pushing her way through the crowd with tears in her eyes.

Names like Ms. Piggy, Oinker, demon, and Wilbur followed her through the crowd. She was crying, but she knew she had to get away. She had never felt her curse so keenly as she had in that moment. She had suffered loneliness, but never a crowd confirming all the negative thoughts that had ever been in her head.

She finally pushed through the last person and ran for the park exit, hearing her name called over and over again. She ran faster. She willed herself to outrun everyone. She had been foolish to believe Oliver when he had said she wasn’t a monster. He didn’t see her that way, maybe, but the world did. And he deserved to be with someone he could love in the light. She belonged in a cage - a gilded cage of money and power that was of her mother's choosing, but a cage all the same.

She ran smack dab into Mr. Diggle not far from the park. She wasn’t nearly as surprised as she should have been to see him.

“Take me home,” she sobbed into his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around her and guided her to a waiting car. He drove them through the city in silence, neither censuring her or judging her for her actions. He left her to her thoughts, and she was grateful for it. When they pulled up to the mansion, she got out woodenly, prepared for the worst.

“How long has she known where I was?” Felicity asked as Diggle joined her.

“She didn’t,” he replied. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you on my own. I think this adventure of yours was good for you, no matter how it turned out.”

“You’re a good man, and a better friend,” she said.

“Just go easy on her. She’s been worried.”

The front door opened and Donna, in all of her top-of-the-line designer dress glory, stepped out. She shrieked loudly, and then pulled Felicity into her arms. She rocked her and clutched her to her body tightly.

“My baby girl! I was so worried! You were gone so long! What if someone had seen your face?!”

Felicity pulled away from her mother and walked inside without answering. She knew the truth would come out soon enough. She sighed and went to her room, the one place she had ever felt truly safe outside of Oliver’s arms. She sat on the swing that hung in the middle of the room and rocked herself lightly as she fought the urge to cry again.

She had never hated her curse more than knowing what it felt like to have had a normal life, however briefly, and to have it ripped so cruelly away from her.

The following two days were a mixture of oppressive silence around the doorbell ringing nearly constantly. Felicity knew she could unhook it easily, as the sound was driving her mother mad, but she didn’t. She didn’t leave her room. All the anger, the sadness, and the regret festered in the heart. She thought of kissing Oliver. She thought of the crowd surrounding her. She thought of Iris's and Sara’s shock. She pictured the conversations they must be having about her now. She imaged the stories that were raging across the news, and the freak show she had turned into because of her naive trust in the world. But, mostly, she thought about Oliver’s words. She thought about his assurances that she wasn’t a monster. The idea that maybe he was right started to form in her heart. She wasn’t the monster - the people who had fled from her, who had judged her, who had made her feel like less because of her birth were the monsters. The people who ran from her because of something she couldn’t help were the monsters. The ignorance they perpetuated by being judgmental and harsh was the monster that lurked in the dark.

“Honey?”

Donna appeared in front of her in a flutter of bright color. Felicity looked back down at the floor and started swinging herself again to soothe her racing thoughts.

“Don’t be like that,” her mother snapped impatiently, tired of being ignored.

“I’ve heard that before,” Felicity said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Donna demanded, her hands going to her hips.

“You've never wanted me to be the way that I am.”

“That’s not true!” Donna scoffed.

“It’s all I’ve ever heard from you!” Felicity yelled back, her temper rising. “As far back as I can remember you’ve made me feel like I’m a freak. You’ve hidden me away, been desperate to marry me off, all because of a nose I couldn't help!”

“Well, look at you, honey. Do you really want to go around with that…thing on your face forever?”

“It’s my face!” Felicity yelled back. “It may not be the best, but it’s mine! And there are so many other things about myself that I like, that I’ve learned to love. I like computers. I like fixing them. I like being able to help people, and seeing the good in them. I like that I can speak French, and play the piano, and that I know all the Nancy Drew books by heart. I can quote poems and argue politics. There are so many things to like about me, but you, like the rest of this world, only see the nose. I am not my nose!”

“But, honey-” her mother tried to argue.

“No! I like myself! I like who I am, and I won’t let you make me feel like a monster ever again!”

She stopped rocking herself as a sharp pain started at her nose and flared with brilliant urgency. It burned and sizzled, jolting her. She doubled over, crying out, as the pain continued to build.

“Honey! Felicity!” her mother reached out and grabbed her, holding her close as the pain tore through Felicity once more. Her mother’s touch was the only thing that kept her from falling. It was the only thing that kept her grounded in the present.

The pain seemed to last forever. It was an eternity of hurt. She pictured Oliver’s face and prayed that it would come to an end soon. His smile was the only thing that kept her conscious and willing to fight whatever was happening to her. Finally, it ended, and she looked up at her mother with tears in her eyes and soft pants as the pain gently receded to a place of memory. Her mother gasped.

“Oh, honey,” she whispered, her own eyes filling with tears.

“What?”

“Your nose,” she said. She released Felicity and picked up a mirror from the dresser. She held it out to Felicity with trembling hands. Felicity gaped at the person that looked back at her. Her nose was slender and cute, the nose she was always meant to have had she not been cursed since birth. She started crying, realizing that her words had set her free. A blue blood had accepted her. It had taken herself to set her free. All she had to do was accept herself for who she was. It was so simple. She started laughing around her tears. Donna was apologizing through her sobs.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. You did it yourself. You fixed yourself. I could have…if I had accepted…”

Felicity grabbed her mom’s face and kissed her forehead, forgiveness and hope in her heart. “No. It’s okay. It needed to happen this way.”

“Still…”

“Mom.”

“I need to be better. I can be better,” Donna said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Felicity hugged her mother tighter, a lightness settling into her bones at the knowledge that she was finally free. She knew where she needed to be, who she needed to see. “I have to go.”

“What? Why?” Donna asked.

Felicity didn’t answer. She ran through the house, her steps forceful and determined. Diggle was just coming inside when she reached the foyer. He didn’t react to her nose at all. She was convinced he really didn't care either way. “Felicity? Are you okay?”

“I have to see someone,” she replied breathlessly.

“Oliver?” he asked.

That made her stop. She stared at him. He shrugged. “We’re friends. Knew him in the service.”

“Can you take me to him?”

Diggle gestured her through the door with a smile that was as comforting as it was kind. The drive into the city felt like an eternity. She kept shifting and looking out at the buildings impatiently. She wanted him in front of her. She needed to touch him, to see if he still loved her the way she desperately and irrevocably still loved him.

“He came by, you know,” Diggle said. “Your mother didn’t want any visitors because of the press.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were sulking in your room and not letting anyone in,” Diggle replied.

“Oh. Right.”

Finally - finally! - the car pulled up to Iris’s bar and Felicity jumped out. She hurried to the door, but paused before she opened it. What did she need to say to him? What could she say? What if her running away had changed his opinion of her? What if he didn't want the hassle or the press? What if he liked the girl with the pig nose better?

There was nothing left but to see…and hope. She had to be brave.

She pulled the door back and allowed herself the chance to adjust to the darkness. No one looked her way, no one save for Sara. Sara’s jaw dropped yet again, and then she was around the bar and hugging Felicity before Felicity could register fully what had happened.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know! Please forgive me! I didn’t mean to make everything so shitty for you!”

“You were helping me,” Felicity said. "I understand. You didn't know."

“I just thought you had a scar or something,” Sara said.

“Or something,” Felicity said with a grin.

Sara leaned back. “I guess that’s not really a thing now, huh?”

Felicity smiled in agreement. Iris pulled Sara away with an impatient sigh and hugged Felicity next. Her embrace was full of warmth and acceptance. She touched Felicity’s face lovingly, cupping her cheeks. “I'm so glad you came back,” she said. "I missed you."

Felicity smiled, then felt her heart tremble and quake as Iris released her and Oliver appeared over Iris’s shoulder. Felicity stared up at him, wondering what he was thinking, hoping he wasn’t mad, wishing more than anything that his opinion of her had not changed. There was a pause, weighted and uncertain, and then Oliver was in her space and kissing her fiercely.

Catcalls and whistles surrounded her, but she didn’t care. She was kissing him. He still loved her. He still wanted her. He pulled away from her and wiped her tears away once more.

“I broke my curse,” she said with a hiccup that made him smile.

He looked at her more closely. “I didn’t even notice,” he said calmly.

She smiled. “You would have kissed me again even with the snout?”

“Your face is never what made you beautiful,” he said.

Her heart ached with the knowledge that she had truly found the best of men.

“I think that you may have turned into a thief once more,” he added.

“How?” she asked, a frown on her face.

“Because you stole my heart and never gave it back.”

“That was so corny,” Sara said.

“Awful,” Iris agreed, with a contended sigh.

“It was perfect,” Felicity returned, eyes only for Oliver. “You’ll always be my hero,” she assured him.

“You’ll always be my thief,” Oliver returned.

She kissed him again, her heart bursting with joy, and she knew that, no matter what lay ahead, they would be okay, because they were enough, always enough, and would always accept each other for who they were on the inside.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity at the theatre. Oliver isn't interested in the people on stage. Nope, he's only got eyes for Felicity. Written for my dear friend Jen, because she's awesome.

Confrontation

 

People were singing. Loudly. There was also dancing. And he had paid for it. Actual money had gone to endorse this… _ thing _ he was living through. He had weathered torture, drowning, manipulation, and a thousand injuries all determined to make him weaker. They had not. They had made him stronger, built him up into the man he was today. He felt like he should be able to take this god awful moment and turn it into another measure of his willpower and strength. Instead, it felt unending, a bleak crescendo determined to last forever. He had sunk into a black hole of unmitigated boredom that held no respite in sight. He was absolutely convinced that there would be no end to the singing and dancing. This was his hell. This is where he would go when he finally died for real.

 

He had counted the exits. He always counted the exits. There were four. He could make it to them in under eight seconds. There were another two backstage. He could make it to them in ten. He hadn’t noticed anyone out of the ordinary when he had walked into the theatre, and he certainly hadn’t seen anything suspicious. It was almost criminal how normal everything was. He had learned to enjoy the everyday, to take stock of the moments of peace he could find. He liked his life now. No, he loved it. But right now he really just wanted a bad guy to punch. At least when his life was in danger he wasn’t bored. Nothing had prepared him for this, not even formal functions he had been forced to attend.

 

Why did there have to be singing?

 

A soft hand connected with his left arm. It followed the skin of his arm down until it reached his hand, strong, callused, and darkened by the blood of some many lives lost and enemies faced. As instantly as the thought of his past came, it was replaced with true peace far more real than any violence, any pain, any suffering that could be endured by man. It was because of her. Only for her.

 

He glanced away from the stage, the glaze of boredom leaving his eyes as he turned to look at the woman who filled his horizon, who settled his turbulent seas, who gave him hope when the darkness felt so crowded by demons in the dark.

 

Felicity was staring enraptured at the stage, even as her fingers moved to intertwine with his. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed with a bright pallor of total joy. It was the same red blush he had seen on her face time and time again, though they were usually alone when it happened. A warm rush of heat spread from his chest and through his body, settling finally in his groin.

 

_ Not the time, not the place, _ he reminded himself, his eyes still locked on the face of the woman that had become his salvation.

 

The heat within him did not dim, but he mastered control as he willed himself to look beyond the blush that he had always attributed to belonging to their most intimate of moments. Her blue eyes held…everything. She felt all of her emotions so honestly, so purely. She may have been reserved in sharing the past, but not here, not now. She was exposed, a raw nerve that she freely left uncovered for his witness.

 

When she had dragged him to the show, he had complained, quietly but not ardently. He had seen how much it meant to her to go. She had said it was something she had always wanted to do in New York City. She had claimed it was criminal to be in Manhattan on vacation and not see Les Mis. His token resistance had faded to buying tickets within the hour. For her, he would figure out a way to spin the world the other way. Only for her. Only if she asked. He could deny her nothing.

 

He had not known how heightened, how beautiful, watching the play would make her. The stage provided their only source of light, flickering, dimming, fluttering, changing the gentle hush of darkness that surrounded them in muted waves or color. He could not see much beyond her. It made him feel as though Felicity were the only one in the theatre. There was an intimacy, a near eroticism to the changes the muted light brought to her face. He couldn’t look away. The ground could dissolve to nothingness and he would not notice as he stared at her. No matter how long he had loved her, no matter how long his soul had yearned for hers, she kept surprising him. She was singular and, somehow, she had agreed to be his.

 

Her hand clenched around his as her eyes widened slightly. Dramatic music was playing, but he didn’t dare look away from her. It would have been a sin, and he had sinned enough. Fear flecked briefly in the blue that surrounded her irises before it gave way to relief, pure and sweet. The flush had not faded. It had settled into the contours of her face, etched into the alabaster with delicate grace.

 

The play had bored him – had set him to counting exits – but this, this was heaven. He could sit and watch her reactions until the end of time. He would if he could.

 

He didn’t see any of the play, but he knew what happened all the same. He saw the plot in her face; saw the drama in her reactions, felt the fear, the joy, the hope, the misery, the love, and the sadness in her touch and her eyes. He was transfixed, enraptured, ready to go to war just so he could keep that blush on her face.

 

Her eyes welled with tears, the shimmering liquid as clear as a lake he had traveled to so many years ago. The lake had reflected the blue of the sky on that perfect day. Her eyes were more spectacular, a better reflection than any nameless lake that dared pretend to be equal to her beauty. One tear, then several, leaked down from the blue, tracks lining the red of her blush, before they disappeared into her lap. She smiled through the tears, her love and joy mingling with her sadness. He squeezed her hand just a little bit tighter, a matching smile spreading across his face. The warmth within him deepened, solidified, told him that he wanted her in a way that was not surprising no matter how many times they had shared a bed.

 

He realized as he watched her that he had seen her naked, but he had never seen her this bare. She was joyous and complete. She was unguarded and willing to give her emotions to the theatre without hesitation or reservation. She was life and light.

 

God, he loved her.

 

He continued to stare, not caring who saw, who thought him strange. He didn’t want to miss a single moment. Finally, the lights slowly came back up in the house and Felicity slipped her hand out of his so that she could clap. She joined the rest of the crowd as they came to their feet, to applaud and yell out their support. He stood as well, clapping along habitually, feeling dazed and transported.

 

Was this the way theatre was supposed to make him feel? Was this the way she felt about the story she had just watched?

 

He finally wrenched his eyes away from her face, noticing in disappointment that the blush was fading. She gently wiped away the lingering tears as the cheering went on. The performers took their bows and finally the sounds of clapping died away. Chatter, shuffling, fabric rubbing, and people walking filled the old theatre with sounds of humanity, ending the moment and bringing reality back to the focus.

 

Felicity turned to him, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she smiled eagerly. “That was amazing!”

 

He smiled slightly, words beyond him. His agreement felt like it would not be enough. It felt like a hollow thing, so dreadfully inadequate to the emotions watching her had left in him. A garbled mess of words was not the way he planned on spending the evening. No, he had other plans entirely.

 

He reclaimed her hand and gently tugged her away from their seats. She laughed at him and wrapped her hand around his elbow, humor in her face as she willingly followed him out of the theatre.

 

“The last time I saw you run this fast was when you were chasing after a car,” she said. “Which is really impressive when I think about it, because cars go kind of fast. I mean, of course they do…they’re cars. They have horsepower. But you have manpower…a lot if it.” She bit her lip as his smile grew to something a bit cockier. “That’s not the point…Did you hate it that much?”

 

She had not missed his lack of excitement. He thought about the hours spent watching her enjoy the play.

 

“No,” he said honestly.

 

Her eyebrows raised skeptically. “Then why are you running like the building’s on fire?”

 

An elderly lady looked at her startled and afraid as the words escaped.

 

“It’s not,” Felicity assured her even as Oliver dragged her towards the main lobby doors.

 

Oliver considered his answer. He didn’t know how to explain the entirety of the emotions that were moving through his body. All he knew was that he wanted to be close to her. He wanted to surround her and have her surround him. He needed to put physical purpose to his mental chaos.

 

He simply needed her.

 

They stepped out into the warm air that swirled in the heat of the day and he raised his hand for a taxi. One appeared nearly instantly and he gently helped her inside.

 

“Oliver?” she asked quietly, prodding him to an answer.

 

“I’ll tell you when we get back to the condo,” he said quietly, gently kissing her on the cheek and taking her hand. The kiss didn’t feel like enough. He wanted more, but it was as chaste as he could manage without devouring here then and there.

 

She took his words with a smile and watched as the city passed by in waves of humanity and the stone and glass buildings that loomed so proudly above them. Soon, but not soon enough for him, they were at the condo they had rented for their stay. He closed the door behind them with a resolute snap and she turned to look at him, a question in her eyes.

 

He didn’t allow the words to come to her lips. He didn’t need them, and he knew she would get the point much quicker with action. He stepped into her space, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her with all the passion that had been building within him since first noticing that perfect, beautiful blush on her face. She giggled, but instantly kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck warmly. She read him silently, knowing without words that he was not after a simple kiss. Their kiss turned heated, passionate, full of mutual need that burned brighter than any fire ever could at her understanding.

 

He picked her up and carefully carried her to the bedroom, eager to bring that blush back to her body, eager to show her how fully she consumed his soul.

 

For the rest of her life, Felicity Smoak would think that the theatre made Oliver horny. She bought more tickets than shows she wanted to see simply for that reason alone. For the rest of his life, Oliver never once saw a play all the way through, no matter how many times Felicity bought them tickets to it. There was only ever her – that blush, that rapture, that ephemeral heat that raged through him every single time he watched her watch a play.


	4. Play Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sports AU - Olicity, with anti-Laurel a bit. Angst meets fluff.

There were two constants in her life. The first was that no matter how awful she felt or how crazy her life was she could turn to her work and find everything that she was missing. It was structured in the chaos. It was kind in the joy. It was everything that she needed when she needed it most.

The second was that she was in love with Oliver Queen and he was destined to always and irrevocably be in love with someone else.

She had thought very little of Oliver when they had first met. He was another ball player with a cocky charm and certainty that the world revolved around him. She had spent years in the minefield of men who thought that she, one of the few women in the park, was desperate for their attention. She was kind but stern, never falling for the lines, the promises, or the shirtlessness - and, Lord help her, there had been plenty of the latter.

When Oliver had come to the team, it had been as a last chance for him. He had worked his way through all the ones that wanted him. Thier team had been failing for as long as there was a park to play at. Sales were down, attendance was at a record low, and nothing she did could turn it around. Until he had started taking the game seriously. She may have yelled at him a bit, though she would never take all the credit, to get him to pay attention to what was happening, to respect his teammates and his coach, who had gone out on a limb for him.

He cut down on his drinking, he came to practice, he gained a focused, nearly intense aura that was alarming whenever she saw it on his face. He was finally present, and she had finally started to take notice of the man behind the crumbling veneer of self-indulgence and self-destructiveness. She remembered being surprised by the sweetness and the consideration. The quiet that had replaced the loudness he used as a shield was calming and full of purpose. He still partied, he still had his moments of being someone else, someone she didn’t recognize, but never with her, never again.

Until today.

She knew he didn’t love her, not like that, but they were friends. He confided in her, he asked for her opinion, he went to her before he even went to Tommy. They had shared dinners, lunches, and even the occasional breakfast on the road. They had laughed and cried - she had admittedly cried more than him. (She had a weakness for boyfriends from college who kept finding ways to make her feel like shit and puppy videos, okay?) They had shared their lives and she had opened herself up to him in a way she rarely did. Only Coach Digg and Iris could claim such a familiarity with the woman behind the steel, intelligence, and determination.

She hadn’t meant to let him in. She had fought it - they had fought so much in the beginning - but there had just been something about him. He was the one person that could make her do anything, that tested the way she saw things and made her want to be better, not for him or anyone else, but for herself. He made her want to grow and be daring in a way she had not since she had started working at the park.

And now he was on national television announcing his intentions to marry the one woman in the world that summed up toxicity, selfishness, and attention-grabbing neediness.

She didn’t understand it. She couldn’t believe it. The last time Laurel had been brought up between them, it had been with a growl of anger on Oliver’s part and a backing down on Felicity’s. He had been done, over it, through. So, why now? Why go back to her? Why marry her? Who was this man that would go so completely back on his word? She had thought him a man with more backbone, more self-respect. The thought that he wasn’t sent bile into her throat.

She picked up the remote and turned off the television just as Oliver flashed that patented smile she hated so much when it was directed at her. For the fans, it was perfect. For her, it was a lie.

Her eyes welled with tears, but she dashed them away, determined to focus on the one thing that would never, ever disappoint her. She had a team to promote, fans to put in seats - not that it was the struggle it had been a year ago. Oliver’s consistent performance and good looks had brought them in by the hundreds.

She shook off the thought and sat down to slog through the paperwork she had been putting off, her mind whirling with facts and numbers even as her heart continued to break. Her heart was screaming at her to put distance between her and Oliver. It wanted to leave, to go anywhere else. She’d had plenty of other offers. She had been tempted to take them. The sense of family she got from the park, the guys who made the game so much fun, Oliver, had kept her there. She liked the casualness she knew she wouldn’t find at other parks. But could she keep doing this? Could she watch Oliver get married, see his joy even as her own heart screamed at her to say something, do anything?

Even her analytical mind was telling her no.

Seattle had been calling her for months. The owner, Shado, wanted her to come work for them. She had even offered a substantial pay raise. It would be a chance to take a fledgling team and make something of it. She had been sorely tempted by the offer, but had declined. She knew now that there had been only one reason. She cursed herself for putting her heart over her job. She had never done that before, never been swayed by hope so absolutely. And now it was sitting broken and decayed at her feet, as the man she loved promised his heart to another.

A soft tap, tap, tap, made her jump, though she didn’t look up. She knew that knock. She suddenly hated it more than anything.

“Hey,” Oliver said softly. She sensed him testing the feeling of the room, trying to see how upset she was and if she was going to yell at him.

It probably would have been better if she felt like yelling. But now, she only felt tired and sad. All fight had left her. She kept her eyes on her paperwork and willed herself to speak, to say anything.

“Hey,” she returned.

The silence that slithered between them was stark and full of so many unsaid things that she was surprised the air itself didn’t crackle and hiss. She kept her attention on the paperwork, deciding silently that, yes, she would definitely be taking the job. She couldn’t do this, not again, not over and over, not trapped in her personal purgatory.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“I don’t really feel like talking right now,” she said. “I’m busy.”

“Doing paperwork you usually put off until the end of the month?” he asked lightly, still determined to keep it light despite everything in the present telling him not to.

She finally looked up at him. For the first time since meeting him, she didn’t see his beauty. She only saw a man who was willing to put aside what he wanted in order to do the thing that was easiest. She saw someone she didn’t really know at all. He sucked in a deep breath as her glare hit him and his reaction was nearly that of taking a physical blow. She pursed her lips and fought the trembling that had overtaken her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I-” He looked past her, his blue eyes troubled and full of so many unspoken secrets she was surprised he wasn’t drowning in them. Any other day she would make a joke to lighten that burden, he would sit, and they would talk. Not today. Not again. “You saw?”

She looked back down at her papers and started writing again. “Mmm,” she agreed.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said.

She scoffed, but didn’t say anything.

“Would you stop that?” he demanded. “Talk to me!”

“And say what?” she said coldly. “Say how disappointed I am in you? Say how little I like the woman you’re going to marry? Say how you deserve someone better, someone who loves you for you? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know all of that…And I’m not interested in stroking your ego, or telling you it’s okay, or whatever reason you decided to come down here. It’s not okay. This is not okay.”

“Felicity-”

“No! You know what? I thought you had changed. I thought the man I had come to know was real, but this? This says everything that your words never did. Actions speak, Oliver, and I’m tired of pretending like I don’t see what you’re saying when you say nothing at all.”

She stood, grabbed her purse, and moved past him. He reached out and took her hand, stopping her. Like always, her skin tingled from the contact, but she didn’t let it linger. She shook him off angrily and marched to the door. She stopped at the threshold and took a deep breath. Without looking back at him she spoke.

“If she’s what you really want, if you think for an instant that she could make you happy, then I do wish you well. I’ve only ever wanted to see you happy. You deserve it, Oliver. You really, really do.”

“Felicity…” His voice sounded scared, full of uncertainty. “That sounds like a goodbye.”

She stayed rooted to the spot, realizing with swift understanding that her words had been exactly that. She had not wanted to leave him without letting him know that all she wanted for him was his happiness. His choices might be killing her, might have felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest, was informing her desire to get away, but he still deserved whatever brought him joy. He was a good person despite the animosity his announcement had stoked within her. She didn’t want him to think that he didn’t deserve a happy ending.

“I hope…I sincerely hope that you find your happily ever after,” Felicity said. She started walking. “Goodbye, Oliver.”

There. Those were the words to set her free. She hurried down the hall as Oliver called after her, yelling her name, caressing the syllables as only he could. Tears were streaming now as she all but ran from the stadium.

How she managed to get to her car and then drive herself home was a mystery. It was rote, her body moving to the laws of traffic even as her brain tried to make sense of the past hour of her life.

When she got back to her townhouse, and had ripped down the jersey Oliver had given her from her wall, she pulled out her cellphone. Oliver had called her five times and left a message. She ignored the message and pulled up Shado’s number. Shado answered on the third ring.

“This is a rarity, you calling me instead of the other way around,” Shado teased her.

“Is the job still open?” Felicity asked.

“Yes,” Shado said, a speckle of hope in her tone.

“I’ll take it,” Felicity said.

“Seriously?” Shado asked.

“Absolutely,” Felicity said. “It’s a good opportunity, and I think we can make something the fans want to see together.”

“This is great news!” Shado said. “When can you be up here?”

“As soon as possible,” Felicity replied, determined and fixed on her course of action.

More than anything she needed a break, from him, from the park, from everything that could remind her of the last year of her life. It was time she focused on herself again. It was time she did what she loved without having a man complicate things. She had a good feeling that Shado’s park and the team she was putting together would be a great place to start.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to get everything settled. She turned in her resignation to the owner, Mr. Blood, had dinner with Digg and Lyla to let them know she was leaving, and then realized there was nothing left to do but pack and go.

She had left Starling by the end of the following day, a moving company to send her things after her. Shado met her at the airport, which was nice. It brought peace to some of the feelings of running away. Digg had told her to leave for the right reasons. She had assured him she had, but the doubt had resurfaced the moment she had stepped onto the plane. Seeing Shado, seeing the kindness and warmth reflected back at her, helped ease the nerves she felt in her stomach. Shado would help make Seattle a home. She was certain of it.

Months. It had taken months. Three to be exact, but things were finally coming together. She was building something, creating systems that were to her liking - systems that would streamline the process and make her job so much easier. She had never built something like this before, never had so much freedom to make it hers. It was exactly what she had been missing at the old park, even if she had loved the people so much. She was struggling to make the same connections, but Shado was a big help. Too, the Assistant Coach, Barry Allen, and the Equipment Supervisor, Cisco Ramon, were sweet, funny, accessible, and quickly becoming very good friends.

She was establishing a new normal, and it felt good. It felt easy. It felt fun. It absolutely did not feel as real or as perfect as those long talks with Oliver on the bus, on the plane, in hotel rooms, in the chair at her desk he always claimed, in her kitchen, or at the restaurants he always took her to because she never remembered to feed herself. She was rebuilding, but she could not forget him. Getting him out of her system was not as easy as leaving. She was surprised at how much he lingered in her veins, in her heart, and in her thoughts. She wanted to forget him, to pretend the tingle of his touch had never existed, but she couldn’t. She dreamed of him often; whenever something good happened or she triumphed at work, she itched to call him.

But he belonged to another, and she was determined to put herself first for once. She couldn’t go down that rabbit hole again.

“Felicity!” Barry greeted her as she walked into the building after a working lunch that had scored her several important interviews for the players they had managed to snag from other teams.

“Hey, Barry!” she returned, smiling warmly.

“We have a few more trying out now. Want to come with?” he asked.

“Sure!” she agreed.

She wrapped her hand around his elbow and they walked together down to the field, chatting happily about Iris, who Barry had seen one picture of and had instantly been smitten. He always asked about her, and Felicity was always more than willing to talk about her friend.

When they hit the field, Barry guided her over to the dugout and the rest of the players stood politely and welcomed her. One of the younger players, Roy, even offered her his coat to sit on. She smiled at him, though refused the coat, and leaned against the railing as she watched the men on the field warm up. With Barry as a distraction it took her seconds longer than normal for her eyes to land on a familiar shape.

“Is that Oliver Queen?!” Barry asked excitedly, following her gaze.

Her lips moved but no sound came out.

Coach Slade joined them with a small smile. “We got a surprise visitor today.”

  
“Is he trying out?” Barry asked, way too eager and way too heart-eyed for Felicity’s liking.

“I don’t think so. But I would snatch him up in a second if he decided to pick us this year.”

“What about his contract?” Barry asked.

“I heard from John Diggle that he chose not to renew this year. He’s had some offers, but hasn’t taken any of them.”

“We need to convince him to stay, then,” Barry decided.

“That would be a job for Felicity,” Coach Slade said. “She’s the muscle and the brains. I just look pretty.”

Felicity was staring. She knew she was staring. She couldn’t stop. She wanted to look anywhere else, but he had surprised her. It wasn’t fair of him to just show up out of the blue. She needed time to prepare herself for his aura, his heat, his beauty, his overwhelming personality. This wasn’t fair.

And what was that about a contract?

“Felicity?” Barry repeated.

“Hmmm?” she asked, watching as Oliver hit the ball and it sailed straight for the stands. He still had it. Damn him.

“Are you going to talk to him?” Barry asked. “See if he’s open to trying out?”

“I…um…”

Before she could think of a logical response, Oliver turned and saw her staring at him. His eyes brightened noticeably, before turning soft then slightly wary. She recognized the look. He was uncertain, worried, nervous. He was already rolling the bat around in his hand in his nervous gesture. He caught her gaze, then, and all the heat she remembered, all the sparks she had felt, resurfaced in a familiar dance that made her simultaneously grateful and angry. How dare he do this to her just when she was getting to a good place? How dare he come to her house without warning? Couldn’t he at least given her that?

He tossed his bat to the next man in line and then walked slowly, purposefully over to the dugout. Barry and Coach Slade greeted him boisterously, the others in the dugout doing the same, but his eyes never left hers.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she replied, her anger cooling at the softness in his tone.

Barry and Coach Slade looked between the pair, trying to figure out the lingering tension and the obvious connection.

“Oh. Oliver was in Starling with you, right?” Barry asked.

Felicity nodded, and Oliver finally looked down. He stared at his feet for a long minute. “Can I speak to you?” he asked Felicity.

She hesitated. She was no longer as angry as she had been when she had heard the news, from the news no less, instead of from him, but her heart still felt raw. She didn’t want to have to rehash all of that, but he mattered so much to her. She wanted to know he was okay. She needed to know that he was doing well. She could manage the pain. She would survive this. She was certain of that now.

“Sure,” she replied.

She walked around the railing and joined him on the other side. He walked them a little ways away from the others, so they could have what privacy a busy field afforded them.

“Hi,” he said again.

“I think we had this part of the conversation already,” she said.

“Yeah, you’re right…I just…” He smiled at her nervously. “It’s funny how you always make me so tongue tied.”

She laughed sarcastically. “Hardly! You’ve never struggled to say what you think around me.”

“Yes I have,” he said. “And I’ve done things wrong, and I’ve hurt you, and I’ve been silent when I shouldn’t have…and it all boils down to fear. I see that now.”

“Oliver…I don’t think that right now is the right time,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the others, who were definitely watching her and Oliver. Oliver was a legend, both good and bad, and they were curious.

“Felicity, let me speak,” he demanded. “Give me this, please.”

Her eyes widened at his seriousness and determination. She nodded silently.

“Thank you,” he said. He paused thoughtfully. “I’ve had a few months to think about what I would say. And it all just doesn’t seem like enough. How can I even begin to tell you…?” He sighed. “I think I should start with the reason you left.” He made sure she was looking at him before continuing. “I’m not engaged to Laurel. I never wanted to be, and I’m not now.”

“You never wanted to be?” she asked. “Then why? Why would you do that?” The anger at knowing that he had broken her heart for nothing, for something he didn’t even want, was swift and painful.

“She had something…something I couldn’t let get out,” he said.

“And all of a sudden she doesn’t?” she demanded.

“No, because I found all of the copies, hard and digitial and had the proof deleted,” he said. “To say that she was livid is an understatement, but I honestly don’t give a damn.”

“You’re not making sense,” Felicity said. “What did she have over you? Naked pictures? It’s not the first time those have been in the press. Trust me. I had to find all of them.”

Was it her imagination or was he actually blushing?

“I don’t want to tell-”

“Oliver!” she snapped. “You came all this way to talk or to give me some half-assed explanation?”

He took a deep, fortifying breath. “She had proof of that time you and Cooper broke into the FBI during your hacking days. Cooper gave it to her. She wanted the status of the Queen name. She was desperate for it.  Her career was tanking because of the drinking. She saw the blackmail as the only way to save herself.”

Felicity was frozen. She was shocked. She was spinning. She was emotional, and confused, and freaking way the hell out. Then it hit her.

“You agreed to marry Laurel to protect me?” Felicity asked quietly.

“Just long enough to find the proof,” he said. “Not much of a sacrifice if-”

Felicity didn’t wait for him to finish. She launched herself into his arms and hugged him tightly. His words died with the strength of her hold, but he didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her. For the first time in three months, Felicity felt at peace. She pressed her nose against his chest and willed herself not to cry, not to curse herself for making assumptions, to hate herself for doubting him. She couldn’t help it. The blame was hers to feel.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey. No,” he said. “There is nothing I have done that I’ve not done willingly. No one forced me to do anything. You said that to me when I was feeling sorry for myself. Remember?”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining brightly with her unshed tears. “Thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me,” he whispered.

Her brow crinkled as she looked up at him, her hands still grabbing his shirt tightly. “Why not?”

“I don’t want your thanks,” he said. “Don’t you know why I did it? Can’t you see it?”

“You’re a good friend. Which I clearly am not. I didn’t even give you the chance to explain. I was just so hurt, and angry, and heart-”

She broke off as she realized what she was going to say.

“Heartbroken,” Oliver finished.

She stared up at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as her heart dropped in her chest. God, she was glad that he wasn’t engaged to Laurel, but she was completely not prepared to tell him how she felt. He had never returned the sentiment. There had always been someone else; someone who wasn’t her. It was one of two things she absolutely knew.

“I’ve been such an idiot, have gone about things the wrong way. But no one has accused me of brilliance…” He laughed lightly. “The truth is that the second I saw you I knew that I wanted to be closer to you, and a better man. But the problem was that I was never better, never good enough. You’re so bright, and smart, and determined, and put together, and beautiful…and I was the fuck up who would ruin you given the chance. I wasn’t worthy of you. I’ll never be worthy of you. But Digg made the point that I’ve changed recently. And I can feel it. I feel like you’ve helped me be a better man, helped me be the person I want to be. Digg gave me hope in myself - hope that I could come here and tell you that I love you and have you feel the same way.”

She had to be dreaming. Could dreams feel this real?

“And I do love you,” he said. “So much. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I had to say it, had to-”

She raised up swiftly and pressed her lips to his. The tears had overflowed, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t let him think even for a second that she didn’t love him back. It was ridiculous and reprehensible. He had to know.

He was shocked at first, but he quickly caught up. He smiled into her kiss and held her tighter, forming her body against his possessively, warmly, lovingly. He deepened the kiss as she threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

She pulled back slightly, their lips almost touching, sharing air. “I love you, too,” she admitted.

He kissed her again, until the whoops and hollers from the others reminded her that she was not alone. She pulled away from him reluctantly, feeling dazed and like she was floating on a cloud. Her lips and hands tingled from where they had made contact with his body.

They shared a long look, where she could finally - finally! - see the love he had for her. She smiled at him happily and turned to the others with a happy blush on her face. They slowly walked back over to the dugout, where Barry and Coach Slade were watching with slack jaws. Coach Slade recovered first.

“Well, that’s one way to handle a negotiation.”

Felicity chuckled, and Oliver’s smile was so bright it could melt glaciers. “Coach Slade, I would be very interested in trying out for your team, if you’ll have me.”

“Kid, you’re hired,” Coach Slade said.

Felicity laughed again, her hand tightening on Oliver’s, and marveled at the change a single moment could bring to her life.

She knew two things for certain. One was that her work would never fail her. The second was that Oliver Queen was irrevocably and undeniably in love with her, and that would never change.


	5. Keeping Score

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I watch more documentaries about the NHL than I do actual hockey. Because I am a nerd. Someone take me to an actual game, yeah?
> 
> Olicity. Hockey. Oliver is a captain, Felicity is a videographer. AU.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

There had been many jobs since she had graduated from college bright-eyed and eager to make her mark. Some of them had been decidedly awkward, like turning up to a shoot only to realize the man who had hired her had meant for the job to be a personal pornography thing. She had fled with a promise to herself to vet her potential employers more thoroughly, and she had. Other jobs had been standard – a pop princess’s video, more commercials than she could count, followed by a year covering football games, which led her to meeting Iris West, intrepid reporter, who put her in touch with the NHL’s own Barry Allen, media savant, to cover the NHL Revealed series.

She liked being a videographer. The gear could get heavy sometimes, but she understood her tech and how to make it work for her. She loved thinking of new ways to tell familiar stories, of how the right shot could pull together the thread of a tale, and how her framing could make something feel like the audience was there with her. She was the best in the business, even if the business hadn’t fully caught on to it yet.

She wasn’t certain if she could do this, though.

It wasn’t the fact that the hockey players she was trying to record liked to mess with her or that several of them were really pretty. It was the fact that Oliver Queen was the bane of her existence. He was uncooperative, often impossible to find, and had a tendency to have seriously sparkly blue eyes when he smiled.

The last one was less a problem and more an irritation she had at herself for getting sucked in by those eyes. Because Oliver was a jerk. A rotten, stupid, attractive jerk, who was making her job ten times harder than it needed to be. The producer, Walter Steele, did his best to wrangle the captain of team as often as he could, but Walter often told her to get footage while he was busy managing the other shoots around the country. Being the self-starter she was, that meant she tried to get shots of the team in practice or messing around as they warmed up in the hallway outside the locker room. She tried numerous interviews, with varying degrees of success.

Two days in and she knew who the genuinely nice ones were – John Diggle, Roy Harper, Tommy Merlyn – who the weird ones were – Floyd Lawton, Ray Palmer, John Constantine – who were the shy ones, who were the ones with social anxiety, and who the absolute douche of the team was. That last title belonged solely to Oliver Queen.

So maybe he wasn’t a douche as much as he was irritating, but in moments like these when he kept skating circles around her so that she couldn’t get him on camera she wanted to scream and call him all of the insults she had learned in casinos in Vegas. (FYI, she knew a lot.)

She wobbled as she tried to find him again, only to realize he was on the completely opposite side than she thought. She saw him reach out to her with wide eyes as she wobbled a second time and then fell. She hit the ice, her body curled protectively around her camera. The pain that radiated from her butt was intense, and the harsh cold had her nose dripping, her eyes watering, and her teeth clattering. She didn’t like this much cold all at once, and now she was sitting on the ice as her butt throbbed and her head ached from the sudden fall. It was the definition of sucky.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked, leaning down to take a look at her.

Felicity scowled up at him and slowly climbed to her feet, feeling even more embarrassed to realize that the entire team was watching her. She was supposed to be part of the scenery, to blend in so that she didn’t prevent the others from being their authentic selves, and she was really good at it. She could get the truth from her subjects without being invasive. She was proud of her work, and now they were all staring at her with a mixture of amusement, concern, and confusion.

She tried to storm off, but that didn't work so well on ice. She had to settle for awkwardly gliding and wobbling. When she reached the stands, she was fuming. Everything she worked for was crumbling around her because Oliver Queen had it in his head to make her job difficult. He was going through some petulant phase of not wanting to do something and was taking his feelings out on the poor soul who had been sent in to film him. He might not want to do it, but she didn't have to put up with it. She’d had enough. She was going to do the adult thing and tell on him.

She told Walter and then Coach Wilson, making a point of mentioning how Oliver was literally the only one not cooperating, and how as captain of the team it looked like he didn’t care about the game or the players. Walter took her complaints seriously, listening intently as she rambled. Coach Wilson took her seriously as well, though with less reserve. He stormed out of his office yelling Oliver’s name as he went.

After a long talk, where Walter used his Britishness to guilt Oliver and Coach Wilson used his Australianess to yell at him, Oliver agreed he would stop fighting the filming and participate. She was smug up until the moment she realized that his idea of participation was being a wet rag and only speaking in a deadened monotone whenever she questioned him. It was better than him messing with her at every opportunity, but it was still irritating as all hell. She knew without knowing that he was more than this. He was not the person he was trying to let her see. The way he interacted with the others when the camera wasn’t pointed at him, the lack of steel and grumpy face that he had when talking to his best friends, Digg and Tommy, would have been enough, but she knew intrinsically that he was better than this façade. She felt it to her bones.

“How do you feel about Digg having a baby soon?” Felicity asked Oliver, trying for the third time that day to get him to talk to her. It was the day after the fall and it was potentially the longest day of her life.

Oliver blinked twice, his expression a master class in stoicism, his blue eyes like ice as he looked at her. They were in the locker room and he was sitting on the bench as he slowly laced his skates. He gave it another beat, and then said in his most monotone voice, “I am super excited.”

She resisted the urge to curl her hands into fists, but only just. Her lips hardened into a thin line and anger created a flush through her. A good portion of the team was in the room as well. A few of them snickered at Oliver’s response, while Digg rolled his eyes and Tommy looked at her sympathetically.

She lowered her camera, turned it off, and gently, protectively, sat it on the bench and turned to the room at large. “Can I have the room, please?” she asked the burly men around her. They looked at her like she had gone mad. She knew why. She was a tiny woman with a camera, not their coach. But she’d had enough. “Out!” she yelled, using her loud voice.

The grown men suddenly seemed a lot smaller as they flinched, scrambled, and otherwise raced for the door. When she turned back to Oliver, he was looking at her with wide eyes and surprise clear across his features. She pointed a finger at him and poked him in the chest once.

“You have a choice right now, Mr. Queen,” she informed him heatedly. “You can continue with this act you’ve put up, the one that suggests you don’t care about your team or the game, or you can let me film you as honestly as possible. Here's something about the film business you might not know, Mr. Queen. They like to take the story that’s the most interesting and run with it. You learn pretty quickly that you have to tell your story first, frame it the way you want to, before someone else does it for you. And trust me, they will. They will let you hang because it’s more interesting. You have the power right now to show them who you are before they decide it for you. I know you’re not this man you’re trying to show. I know that you are more than the grumpy faces and cold disdain. You’re the man who comes in an hour early to study the plays, to think up strategy. The man who talks to Digg about his fears of becoming a father and talks Tommy down from ledges. You watch out over Roy and humor Floyd Lawton’s weird routines.”

Oliver seemed surprised that she had seen so much, but she had. It was part of the reason she was so frustrated. She could see the goodness in him that he refused to show to the camera.

“You’re passionate about the game and your teammates. No matter how much you’ve screwed up in the past, you have this,” she told him. “Let the world see it before the editors decide that continuing the narrative of Oliver the playboy is more interesting." She paused, letting her words linger before continuing. "And even if you don’t respect what I do for a living, or the film business in general, you will respect me,” she warned him, another finger bouncing off his stupidly firm chest. “Got it?”

He nodded mutely, still staring at her with wide eyes, and she picked up her camera and stormed out of the locker room. The others were hovering near the door, clearly listening in on the verbal lashing she had given Oliver, but backed away when they saw her. Respect and fear was on their faces, and all she could think was _good_.

She took twenty minutes to cool off and get her temper under control before she went back to the rink. They were already practicing drills, the team moving like an oiled machine, the camaraderie and cheerfulness a layer beneath the seriousness of working hard and being the best. She got some shots of Coach Wilson calling plays before she finally turned back to the ice and players. She stayed off the rink so that she wasn’t in the way and filmed for half an hour before sitting down just to watch and enjoy. More often than not, her eyes were drawn to Oliver. He was playful with his teammates, smiling freely, right until the moment the puck was in play. Then he was focused, determined, nearly inhuman as he skated his way through the defense. He scored more shots than anyone else and looked completely at home on the ice. She jumped to her feet as the practice started to wind down and got several shots of everyone laughing, messing around, and leaving their gloves on the ice for Roy to pick up. Everything was done in good humor, and she thought to herself that this was the team she had been sent out to film. This was the team she had tried to film from the beginning.

She followed them to the locker room and felt a shift in the air when she walked inside. It was loud inside, full of ribbing, playful jokes, and horsing off. Practice had gone well. Some of the players were already half undressed, but she didn’t care. She was just glad that the tension from before had disappeared. She caught Oliver’s eyes as she walked around the room and noticed him watching her thoughtfully, a soft frown pulling at the corner of his lips. Floyd was in the middle of methodically tapping on the bench in front of his cubby hole, his typical post-practice ritual to ward off bad luck. She moved on to Ray, who shot her a flirty smile that she pretended not to see. Tommy stopped her, grabbing the front of the camera and then giving a surprisingly apt version of an Irish jig into camera, his voice smooth and bold as he sang out his heart. It took a lot of effort not to dissolve into laughter at that, especially when he had half the room follow along with him and it was just so terrible that it was fun.

He finally released the camera and she asked him some questions. He answered them with a playful smile, then she shifted to Digg. He was as calm, kind, and well-spoken as ever, answering her in a way that not only suggested he knew the importance of what she was doing but with the maturity of being the oldest one on the team. Finally, she made her way over to Oliver, feeling awkward but not sorry, and started to pass him, figuring he wouldn’t cooperate.

His hand landed on her arm, stopping her. “Ask me again.”

“What?” she replied, her brow crinkling with confusion.

“The question you asked before. Ask me again,” he said.

She turned to face him, camera framing his face, hope bubbling in her chest, and asked, “How do you feel about Digg becoming a father?”

“Digg has been a father for far longer than he’s willing to admit. He’s raised us all. He’s had more patience and kindness than any of us deserve, especially me. He’s going to be a great dad, and I’m excited to share this next step in his life with him as a teammate and as a brother,” Oliver said, his voice soft, raw, and honest for the first time since she had met him.

The room had quieted a bit with Oliver’s answer, and Digg had heard it all. He tugged Oliver up and gave him a warm hug, before roughly pushing him back down and moving on to continue getting changed. Oliver laughed at Digg’s roughness, his eyes sparkling, and then shook his head in mock exasperation. Then, because her ovaries were having a hard enough time with the sparkling eyes, he winked at the camera. She smiled back and lowered the camera briefly to look at him. She didn’t speak, knew that she had said enough before, but he caught her eyes and she knew he had seen the thank you she had in mind. He nodded, and went back to taking off his skates.

She let them get undressed without filming, not wanting to see a locker room full of sweaty, gross men anyways, and got b-roll of the rink, the people who kept the team running, and the Zamboni as it worked the ice. Walter found her there and gave her a brief rundown of what he’d like to film next, with focus on Digg, Tommy, and Oliver, as they were the most interesting and photogenic of the group, and then told her that tomorrow they would be on a plane to Toronto for the start of the team’s away game lineup.

After everyone was changed, she followed the majority of the team to a restaurant that was directly across the street and recorded them as they interacted with the owner, Sara. Sara was a no nonsense kind of woman and Felicity liked her immediately. She liked her even more when Sara started telling stories about the players and it got the whole team talking, arguing, and vying for Felicity’s attention so that they could tell their side of it into the camera. It made for great footage, and she was happy to see Oliver more relaxed, more himself than she had ever seen him. It was strange how keyed in to him she seemed to be post yelling at him, but she ignored it and focused on her job and showing off the weirdness, crazy, and family of the team. She knew they would just be one part of the overall narrative, but she was determined to make sure their fans saw the love she felt between them.

It was very late by the time the team decided to call it a night. Sara had kept the restaurant open for them, kicking out everyone who wasn’t on the team so they could relax without being asked for autographs. Felicity recorded the fun until her battery ran out, then listened to Sara’s pleas to take a break and stowed her camera behind the bar. She talked with Sara for a long time, then was sucked in to Tommy’s group by Tommy, who threw his arm over her shoulders, and then plopped her down in the seat next to him. Roy, Digg, and Oliver were at the table as well. Oliver was directly across from her and she was blaming his positioning for the reason her eyes kept landing on him and not because she was curious and wildly attracted.

“How long are you filming us?” Tommy asked.

“Two weeks,” she replied. “They might send me back if you guys get into the finals.”

“If?” Tommy demanded.

“When?” she asked.

“Better,” he replied.

“We’ll get into the finals,” Oliver said confidently. “The cup is another matter.”

“God I want that cup,” Roy said.

“You need to make your first goal,” Oliver replied.

“I’ve made assists that have gotten other people goals,” Roy said.

“No one remembers the people who assist,” Tommy said.

“You’re all worried about legacies,” Roy replied. “I’m not. I just want the team to get the cup. I don’t care if my name comes up.”

“We have ourselves a martyr here, boys,” Tommy yelled.

The others hissed and booed, ragging on Roy without knowing what he had said. Felicity smiled at him, and put her hand on his forearm. “I think that’s really nice, Roy,” she said.

He ducked his head, embarrassed, and she poked Tommy in the ribs. He clutched at the spot and shot her a wounded look.

“Not everyone does everything for their ego,” she told him.

Tommy looked horrified, though she knew from the humor in his eyes that he was playing. “They don’t?! Oliver, did you know this? Digg? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“You were too busy being full of yourself, man,” Digg said.

Oliver nodded seriously, playing along. Tommy jumped on the table, scattering dishes, and called into the room. “Did you all know that I’m full of myself?”

Straws, napkins, and even some silverware went flying past Tommy as the others booed and laughed at him. A resounding, “Yes!” filled the room.

Tommy put his hand over his heart, swaying a little in his tipsy state, and then promptly started to sing again. Felicity shook her head. The others soon joined in. By the second song, her head was pounding and she knew that she needed to be in bed if she was going to get up early to be on a flight to Toronto. She slipped away from the table – Tommy was too busy singing to notice – and retrieved her camera and her bag and went outside. The air was chilly but not cold, the benefit of playing hockey in California, and she started back to the practice rink and the car she had parked in the garage.

“Hey!” a voice called from behind her.

She half turned and saw Oliver jogging to catch up to her. She stopped and looked at him curiously.

“Just wanted to walk you back to your car. It’s late,” he said.

“Oh,” Felicity said, her eyes widening. “Um.”

Oliver ignored her stammering and gently took hold of her elbow and turned her so that she was facing the right way. They started walking, and a blush crept up her neck. She wasn’t sure what to make of this new Oliver. She didn’t understand why he was walking her to her car when she had yelled at him not four hours ago.

“I’m sorry if I made things difficult on you,” Oliver said into the silence that had sprung up between them.

“It’s okay,” she said.

“No. It was unprofessional and kind of dickish.”

She laughed. “Yeah. It really was.”

He huffed out a laugh in return. “I just…I’m so used to the media villainizing me. I’m used to them telling the story of the playboy user who doesn’t take the game or himself seriously. You’re giving me the chance to tell my story my way and I should have seen that sooner.”

She listened silently, appreciative he was telling her the truth. “I didn’t realize it was like that for you.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve changed. I’ve been better. I haven’t done anything crazy for a full year. I’ve focused on the team. I’ve buckled down. But it’s not good enough. It’s never enough. Everyone is just waiting for me to screw it up.”

“You won’t,” she said.

He cocked his head to the side as he looked at her. “How do you know?”

“Because that conviction in your voice is pretty telling,” she said. “I don’t know what made you live your life a certain way, or why you fixed it…” She leaned closer, a conspirator in a secret that wasn’t really a secret. “Hockey isn’t really my thing. But I do know when someone is determined to be something different. You already are someone different. The world will catch on eventually.”

They had reached her car. He stopped by the door, looming over her, his body heat warming her beyond anything her thin jacket ever could. She had the sudden urge to reach out and touch him. It was a really stupid urge she quickly repressed.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

She smiled up at him, feeling a good majority of her animosity for him drain away. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Queen.”

“Oliver,” he corrected.

“Oliver,” she agreed.

“Goodnight, Felicity,” he added, closing the door for her as she settled into her seat. She shot him a quick wave back and then watched as he headed back to the restaurant and his teammates. She shook her head at the weirdness of it all and then went home and to the warm bed that awaited her.

The flight to Toronto was equal parts pre-game tension and joking to dispel the tension. They were all eager to beat the Leafs, but the team was good and playing their best season in years. She recorded a bit of the flight, but nothing was really happening. She got a few interviews about what the players hoped to get from the game, but their words were brief and their tension was palpable in every syllable.

The preparation that went into playing on game day was not something she had expected. Everyone had their little rituals, especially Lawton, who kept his sticks, his gloves, and his skates in an exacting order that no one really seemed to question. Walter asked him about it, but Lawton just shrugged and went back to taping his sticks and shaving off the excess. Oliver studied the plays, his head bowed and his body tense. Digg did pushups, and Tommy stretched out his legs as he hummed a song. After that, there was a mixture of organized chaos, brief moments of stillness, stretching, warming up, meetings with the coaches, pep talks, some strategy sessions, and then, finally, the game was starting and they were out on the ice.

She got lots of great shots, but even the hockey novice that she was, she could tell that the game was not going in her team’s favor.

Her team? Huh.

Oliver got moodier, Digg started picking more fights, and Roy’s anger etched lines onto his face. Tommy did his best to keep the puck away from his goal, but they were currently one-nothing and not gaining much ground. Right before the second period ended, one of the Leafs shoved Roy into the wall hard. Oliver retaliated by attacking them man, bringing him down and punching him swiftly. Felicity recorded it all, her heart pounding harder with anxiety as Oliver fought the man.

Oliver and the man who had pushed Roy had to sit in the penalty box until the period ended. When he was finally let out, Oliver looked fiercely angry, yet somehow cold, his body tense and wired. He marched straight into the locker room, Felicity scrambling after the team with her gear, and walked in just as Coach Wilson was giving them a stern talking to about their lack of movement, lack of defensive strategy, and overall lack of cohesiveness. The coach swore more than Felicity had ever heard anyone swear in her life. Finally, he stormed out, leaving the team to the quiet acceptance of their failure. At Walter’s urging she got some of the reactions, then quietly left the room to let them recover in peace. She shot Oliver a commiserating glance, but he didn’t see it. He had his head between his hands and was looking at the floor.

The game did not end well. They managed to tie it before the final buzzer, but the Leafs won in the shootout. Felicity had never seen a more sorry-looking group than the one that returned to the locker room after the game. She recorded all she could, then finally dropped the camera as Oliver, Tommy, and Digg left to give interviews to reporters. She sat down next to Roy and put her arm around his sweaty shoulders. He smiled at her, and then shook his head.

“We got our asses handed to us,” Roy said.

“A little,” she agreed.

“Won’t happen again,” Roy decided.

“Okay,” she agreed.

Roy smiled and leaned against her. “You could sound like you believed it more.”

“I’ll work on it,” she promised.

“I also wanted to say that I support you yelling at Oliver anytime,” Roy said. “I don’t know how you got him to listen to you, but you did, and that’s really cool.”

“I guess yelling helps.”

“Oliver is stubborn. Even yelling doesn’t do the trick sometimes. You should hear his sister…” Roy shook his head with a blissful smile in place. “You got through to him. That’s rare.”

Felicity blushed. “Just doing my job.”

“You’re damn good at it,” Roy said.

“Thanks,” she replied.

That night at the hotel she caught Oliver as he was leaving his room. He was dressed in a nice suit, white dress shirt opened at the collar, and black shoes that probably cost more than her car. He was very handsome, very dapper, and exuded a kind of quiet sexiness that was entirely unfair. She smiled at him, suddenly aware of her hands in a way she never had been before. Did she put them in her pockets? Did she cross them? Would putting them on her hips look too aggressive? Why did people have hands anyways? Claws would have been cooler. She settled for letting them stay at her side, though she still felt overly aware of them.

“Felicity,” Oliver said, doing that unfair soft voice thing he sometimes did.

“Hey,” she said. “Heading out?”

As if that wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

“A few of the guys on the other team want me to go out with them. Used to play with some of them.”

Felicity nodded.

“I don’t want to go,” he admitted, stepping closer to her. “They’ll want me to drink. When I drink, I do stupid shit.”

“You don’t have to drink.”

“It’s easier if I do, especially after a loss.”

“So don’t go,” she told him.

“Convince me not to,” he almost begged.

“I was going to order a pizza, put on my pajamas, and watch _Deadpool_. You’re welcome to join me. Pajamas are optional.”

“Clothes are optional?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her as he changed her words.

She narrowed her eyes at him. He smirked, and she thumbed back at her door, not letting him joke his way out of the seriousness of their conversation or her offer. “That option is there if you want it.”

He didn’t consider it for long. He nodded, and she opened the door and gestured him in with a sweeping gesture that she instantly felt like a dork for making. He didn’t seem to notice. He stepped inside and waited for her to take the lead. He seemed bashful now that he was in her room, like he didn’t know exactly what to do or how to act. She would have never thought that Oliver Queen could be so shy. It was kind of perfect and endearing. It made her feel like he wouldn't try anything with her that she didn't want.

She got him to sit on the bed, ordered the pizza, though she didn’t change into her pajamas, and turned the movie on. They sat shoulder to shoulder as they watched. When she retrieved the pizza, she somehow ended up closer to him than before when she sat back down. He didn’t seem to notice that either. He just kept his arm pressed against her. They talked a bit around the movie, laughed, and she got progressively closer and closer until they were nearly overlapping and her head was on his shoulder. It wasn’t like her at all to be so forward. She didn’t cuddle with men she had known so short a time. But with Oliver, there was simply a level of comfort and familiarity she didn’t have words to place.

She fell asleep on his shoulder, and he fell asleep with his hand threaded through her hair. They both woke up the next morning to frantic pounding on her door. She jumped, he caught her before she could fall out of the bed, and they both stared at the door like it was a wild animal about to attack.

“You get it,” Felicity said.

“No, you get it,” Oliver said.

“I don’t wanna,” Felicity replied.

“It’s your room.”

She huffed irritably, desperately wanting coffee to make up for being woken so rudely, and marched over to the door and threw it back without looking to see who was on the other side.

Digg and Tommy stared back at her, taking in her messy hair and grumpy expression with amused smiles that quickly fell.

“Have you seen Oliver? He was supposed to go out last night, but he didn’t come back to our room,” Tommy said.

Felicity glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t know what to make of Oliver in her bed, looking rumpled in his suit and utterly kissable. She also knew how it would look to the others. They would think that something was going on, and she wasn’t interested in her reputation becoming a lie.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she said. “I talked to him last night. Convinced him not to go out. Maybe he just had to blow off some steam after the loss.”

“If you see him, tell him to call me,” Tommy added.

“Or me,” Digg said.

“I will,” Felicity replied.

“Thanks,” Tommy said.

She closed the door and turned back to Oliver, biting her lip and feeling awful about her lie. “Tommy and Digg would like you to call them,” she relayed.

“You lied,” he said.

“Sort of,” she said. “I didn’t say I hadn’t seen you.”

“Why?” he asked.

She gestured between them. “This looks like more happened than it did. I’m here for work. I don’t need to get a reputation for sleeping around on the job.”

“With the world’s most notorious man whore?” he asked tensely.

“With anyone,” she snapped back. “This isn’t about you. This is about sexism. You know how many women videographers there are in this world? Not nearly enough. And when we sleep with someone or date someone, we have to put up with insults and rumors that men don’t and those things can determine whether we get hired or not in a way it doesn’t with them. So we have to be cautious about who we trust if we want to keep working.”

“Oh,” he said. “So you won’t date someone you’re supposed to be filming?”

“Not while I’m filming them,” she said, frowning at that very specific question. It was even more interesting how specifically she had framed her answer.

“Okay,” he replied. He stood gracefully, still looking wonderfully sleepy and rumpled, and moved so that he was looming over her. “Thank you for last night.”

“It was nice sleeping with you,” she agreed. She froze, and immediately panicked. “I mean sleep-sleep and not _sleep_.”

He put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down, and then smiled. “I’ll see you on the bus back to the airport,” he said.

She nodded, and he left her room, cellphone in hand. She heard him call Tommy as he walked back to his room and she went back to her bed and put her face into the closest pillow with a flop, her brain exploding with what ifs, what could have been, and the certainty that she had just embarrassed herself irreversibly.

When she saw Oliver on the bus, he shot her a warm smile but didn’t outwardly show any other sign of having spent the night curled around her. She sat down with Walter at the front of the bus, and that was that. She breathed a sigh of relief, trusting that he would keep his mouth shut and her reputation clean. She trusted him completely. Which was just baffling and so, so right.

They won their next game, which put them all in better spirits, even if the game had been tough. When she got to the locker rooms, there was a lot of high-fiving, laughter, and teasing going on. They were pumped, still high from adrenaline, and it made for some really great footage she hoped was included in the final product. Digg pulled her to the side at one point and whispered a request into her ear. She laughed and nodded, agreeing to it, and went to find Oliver, who was crowning Roy MVP for making his first NHL goal, the goal that had won the game.

“Oliver,” she said to get his attention. He turned immediately, looking so warm, so welcoming, that her heart may have stuttered a bit in her chest at the sight. She wanted that look, always. She lost what she was going to say until she felt Digg behind her. “Great game tonight,” she added.

“Thanks.”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Pumped, proud. Roy made his first goal. He won the game.” He ruffled the younger man’s hair proudly and Roy blushed, pushing Oliver’s hands away.

“And how does it feel to know that Digg’s arms are twice the size of yours?” she asked in that same professional tone.

Oliver’s eyes widened, then narrowed as the room dissolved into insults and barks of laughter. Oliver regained his equilibrium and smiled. “It feels amazing that I get to touch them as often as I do.”

He sprang towards Digg, his hands outstretched in mock hunger. Digg scooted back, tossing other players behind him to slow down Oliver. “Let me touch them,” Oliver commanded as he chased Digg. “You’re so dreamy, Digg. Let me love you.”

The others soon started chasing after Digg. He resulted to using Felicity as a barrier as he carefully backed out of the locker room, his hands on her shoulders.

“I’d say that backfired on you,” Felicity said around her laughter.

He nodded in defeat, tossed a bag at Tommy to fend him off, and then fled the room to get a massage and recover without the others trying to feel him up. More calls followed him down the hall. Soon, the others went back to what they were doing, preparing for the interviews that were on the other side of getting changed. Oliver lingered, a smile on his face that was just for her.

“Congratulations,” she said.

“Thanks,” he replied, somehow that bashful boy she had seen in her hotel room once more.

It made her heart beat faster once more and she knew that something had happened between them. She also knew that she didn't want to stop it.

 

“This is stupid,” Felicity grumbled.

“Mmmm,” Oliver said.

“Skating is stupid,” she added for emphasis.

“Because you’ve fallen fifteen times in the past three minutes?” Oliver asked.

“Yes!” she returned, trying to slide her skates forward only to wobble dangerously. Oliver had started out by giving her space, but he had seen in less than ten seconds how bad of an idea that was. Now, he hovered to her left and caught her each time she waivered. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because this is a famous outdoor rink that has seen tons of famous games and you wanted to be part of history.”

“Was that a direct quote?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Don’t quote me,” she replied.

He rolled his eyes and held on to her arm as she shimmied forward a little, trying to skate as she had seen the others do. The rink _was_ impressive, and outdoors. The wind was a little bitter, and lazy snowflakes swirled around occasionally, but it was a perfect day and she was happy she had made the choice to come out to the rink even though it was technically a day off for everyone. Walter had decided to save the filming for the game day and the aftermath, and the players were scattered around the city today, taking in the sights and otherwise unwinding before the match. Oliver had offered her the chance to skate when she had showed an interest, and she had leapt on it. Because she was an idiot. Apparently.

“Stop taking baby steps,” he demanded. “Glide.”

“I am gliding. I’m gliding so hard right now,” she said.

She was, in fact, not gliding, but Oliver didn’t tell her that. He simply kept his hand on hers and moved so that he was in front of her.

“Mimic my feet. Move with me.”

“Like dancing?”

“If it helps you,” he said.

She kept her eyes on their feet as he moved, trying to follow him as best she could. After a minute she realized they were finally gliding, sweeping around the rink in a long arc. That excited her far more than it would a sane person. She smiled up at him happily, her joy in her eyes.

“I’m doing it!”

He laughed and nodded, then caught her eyes. His laugh died away and his expression took a more serious turn. She stared back, unconsciously moving her feet with his still, her body responding in a way that was unique to him, to them. They looked at each other fully and she saw several unasked questions answered in his eyes. It scared her, but not nearly as much as not seeing them at all. Her smile turned soft.

Then, because she had dazzled him – though he would only admit that years later – Oliver missed a step and tripped. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her with him as he hit the ice. He knew how to fall and wrapped his arms around her to keep her from hitting the ice as they hit. He grunted, she yelled, and then they both started laughing. She pressed away from his chest a bit to look at him.

“Did you, the Captain of the Star City Sentinels, just trip?” she demanded.

“No,” he replied. “I gracefully lost my footing.”

“Regular people call that tripping.”

“I didn’t trip.”

“Totally tripped,” she said. “I’m telling Tommy.”

“Felicity,” he complained.

“I’m telling ESPN. No, I’m starting a blog just to tell the world that the most graceful person I’ve ever met just tripped on the ice he’s spent years gliding on effortle-”

Oliver closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. His mitten-covered hands moved to cup her face and her hands moved to his shoulders to wrap around the warm jacket he wore and pull him closer. The kiss was rather chaste, but it still took her breath away. She kept her eyes closed a full thirty seconds after he pulled away and breathed him in. He was so close, still sharing her air. In that time, she decided that his lips were perfect and that she never wanted to consider kissing another pair. The thought made her open her eyes. She found him looking back at her in awe, as though he had never seen anything more brilliantly blinding in his life.

“Wow,” she said.

He nodded.

Then she remembered her determination to stay professional and pulled away. “Oliver…”

He pulled her back to him, a slightly panicked expression on his face. “You’re off the clock.”

“You’re still-”

“I know,” he said. “But you only have a week left.”

“That’s true,” she agreed.

“Then I can kiss you as much as I want and you can’t say anything about it.”

“Well, I’m certain I can,” she tried, but he wasn’t paying her attention.

“Because then you won’t be on the job with me, and I’ll-”

“Be on the other side of the country,” she said.

His face fell.

“Dating long distance is hard. I’m in different cities all the time. So are you,” Felicity said. “It would never work.”

“It would work,” he replied.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you and I together would be worth it.”

She hadn’t understood the term swooning before. It had always seemed so dramatic. She got it now. But reality was a bit more pressing than the way her heart was fluttering and her mind was reeling from his passionate words.

“When would we see each other?” she asked him.

“We’d find a way,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I like you. You’ve made me feel like I’m…worth it, like I want to be better, the person you think I am. Let me. Please.”

“Oliver…”

“Please. It’s so weird that I’ve only known you a week, because I can’t imagine a world without you in it now, Felicity. You don't have to feel the same way yet, but I'm begging you to give me a chance. All you have to do is say yes.”

Her eyes flickered down to his lips. They were still a little red from the kiss. She wanted them again. She wanted them over and over until she didn’t feel anything other than his lips on hers. When they met the blue of his eyes once more, she knew that she had made up her mind. She didn’t think they would make it, she was certain that their schedules would tear them apart, but wasn’t trying worth it? What if he was everything she thought he might be for her? What if he was exactly what she needed to make her already full life complete? She was pretty brilliant and she knew the ridiculousness of not trying simply because she was afraid. She had known fear plenty, but she had promised herself never to let it stop her. That included taking leaps of faith on beautiful, athletic, smart hockey players who were currently looking at her like she was the sun after a winter of nothing but night.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His return smile was stunning and so full of hope that she was momentarily blinded. He took advantage of that shock to kiss her again. She pulled back reluctantly, realizing that she was getting cold and that she was still really pressed against his hard body and that was doing things to her that should not be done in public. She tentatively pressed away from him, wobbling again, but he jumped up and caught her before she fell.

“But not until after the job is done.”

He groaned. “Does that mean no more kissing?”

She nodded.

“At all?” he asked.

She nodded again and bit her lip as she realized how impossible it was all starting to sound. She liked kissing him. It was possible he was a new addiction. He gently took her wrist and moved her mitten enough to kiss the inside of her wrist. They started gliding again, him taking the lead.

“Not even there?” he asked.

She shook her head mutely.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Not there?”

She shook her head again.

He kissed her cheek, his lips lingering and her breathing hitching. “Even there?”

She shook her head and he sighed dramatically.

“Longest week ever.”

She patted him on the chest emphatically, and they went back to skating, the moment feeling so familiar, so perfect, and so strange considering that her entire world had just shifted a little to the right. They skated until they got too cold, her form improving quite a bit but still nowhere near the level that she could skate on her own, and their conversation shifting from fun, to funny, to serious, and back again.

They had driven together, so he took them back to their hotel. They lingered in the car, aware that eyes would be on them in the hotel. He kissed her again, and she didn’t complain as he left her breathless and wanting more. She knew she would need it to get through a week of seeing him play, shirtless, and being the everything that he was.

And it was definitely a rough week.

Despite them winning the two games they had in front of them, sightseeing with the guys, having a lot of fun with the family she had started to develop in the players, and getting some great footage she was genuinely proud of, the week felt impossibly long. Oliver was suddenly everywhere she looked and always so far away, even when he was standing right next to her. She wanted to touch him, to ground him and her when he was worried about the game or she was worried about filming exactly what Walter wanted her to get. They shared many conversations from across the room, their expressions saying everything they couldn’t, but it never felt like enough. Even nights spent in private, usually in her room, was never enough. They held each other, made out, and blurred the lines of dating, but neither complained and neither mentioned her vow. Tommy stopped asking where Oliver was going, and no one on the team mentioned the looks that were blindingly full of emotion that could not be hidden. They left them to their secret, and teased them about everything else under the sun.

On the eve of her last night with the team, she knocked on Oliver’s door and, when he answered, wrapped on hand around the hem of his shirt and pulled him across the hall. He didn’t protest and she didn’t provide explanations. She wrapped herself around him on the bed and fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, wondering when she would get the chance to feel him again. The night had made her realize that the end of the week meant not seeing him every day. It meant that he would be in Chicago and she would be in Star City. She hated everything about that plan.

When she woke up, the truth of her departure was still weighing on her. “Reassure me again how we’re going to make this work,” she said softly into his chest. She knew he was awake. He was stroking her back with one hand and playing with a strand of her hair with the other.

“I’ll visit you. You’ll visit me. We’ll FaceTime every day in between.”

“Every day?” she asked with a laugh.

“Twice a day?” he returned, as though the thought of once a day was too little.

“Needy,” she replied.

“With you? Always.”

She smiled and leaned up to give him a kiss. They kissed for a very long time, until it was clear that if she didn’t start moving she would miss her flight. Though missing the flight wasn’t a big deal, being late for a very important meeting with a man who wanted to pay her money to film something for him was a big deal. Oliver let her go reluctantly, then, ignoring her protests, drove her to the airport and kissed her again at the entrance.

She left him with a smile and a fluttering sense of rightness that went straight to her bones and told her that everything would be okay.

And it was.

They shared long distance stories, had fights brought on by the tension of their respective jobs, or from missing the other person they couldn’t stand it and lashed out, made up and returned to their playful teasing and fun, flew sometimes across the country when they had free time just to be able to touch the other person, and made the most out of every time they were in the same city at the same time. They got good at coordinating their schedules, so that they saw each other more and more as the days passed.

Then, the Sentinels got into the playoffs and finally were vying for the Stanley Cup. Oliver really wanted that cup, and Felicity really wanted to be there when he won it. She didn’t tell him, not wanting to pull his head out of the game, but she made plans and she rearranged her filming schedule to be there for him. Roy and Tommy helped on their end and made it so that she sat with the families instead of with the general audience. When she was introduced to Thea, Moira, and Robert Queen she may have made an eep sound that was swallowed by the crowd, but they were all polite, and Thea was incredibly welcoming. Oliver was announced at last. He skated out with his characteristic grace and power, and waved to the stands as was his tradition. His eyes caught on hers and he froze, his body filling with something that was beyond any emotion she had ever seen. It was nearly relief, though stronger, fuller. He recovered, and she saw determination and resolve settle into his face. She winked at him and he smiled back, and she knew that he would win the game.

 

The others had been celebrating for the past twenty minutes, but she just wanted to see him. He had been swarmed after he had made the shot that secured their victory, and then had been surrounded when he left the rink. She had followed the players down the unfamiliar halls to the locker room, hoping he was there. The room was quiet, so she poked her head inside and saw him sitting on the bench. He didn’t look nearly as jubilant as she expected him to look. He was weighing something, and it looked serious.

“Hey,” she called softly.

He immediately stood and the weight fled from his body as quickly as the time it took for him to smile at her. He held his arms out to her and she jumped into them happily. He held her close, her feet lifted off the ground, and breathed her in.

“You’re super sweaty,” she told him.

He laughed into the curve of her throat and started peppering delicate kisses into her skin. He lowered her slowly, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him as they separated a bit. “You okay?” she asked. “You seemed a little up here for someone who just won the big shiny trophy thingy.” She tapped his forehead lightly.

“Just thinking,” he said.

She cocked her head to the side and waited. He huffed a laugh.

“About retiring,” he said. “My knees hurt, my back hurts, and I really don’t like this chasing each other across the country thing.”

“Don’t do it for me,” she said. “Do it for you.”

“Doing it for you is doing it for me,” he replied.

“Oliver…”

“I love the game, but I want to be doing it for the right reasons,” he said. “Winning the cup just makes me think I should retire while I’m on top.”

She shrugged. “If you quit before you’re ready, you’ll hate yourself forever. Don’t do it just to go out on top. Be ready for it. Prepare for it.”

“You’re sorta smart, huh?” he asked after a thoughtful pause.

“A genius,” she replied. “Literally. I have the paperwork and everything.”

He nodded along with her, believing her completely.

“Can I touch it now?” she asked hopefully. She sighed, and put her forehead into her hand with a groan. “Not it! The cup. Can I touch the cup?”

“You can touch whatever you want,” he replied very seriously.

She whacked him on the arm playfully, and he pulled her out of the room to celebrate with the others and appreciate the moment for the beauty it held and the victory it truly was.

Oliver had two more seasons, and one more Stanley Cup win, but his greatest moment, which he would tell anyone who would listen, was when, a year after they had met, Felicity agreed to marry him. Felicity took a job with more regular hours in Star City, and had numerous promotions, before finally opening up her own production company, with Oliver's encouragement, and ruling the media world in the city and on the west coast. Despite all that, Felicity’s greatest moment was the day she got to say, "I do," to the man who made her better in every way possible.


	6. Draw Me A Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written a long time ago. Height Difference AU. Olicity.

The class had surprised him. It was meant to be a one-off, an easy A where he could potentially look at naked women and flirt with the girls in class when he felt like going. He had missed the first class, left halfway through the second class after Tommy had texted him about a party, only attended the third class after seeing a blonde girl walk into it, and had been hooked that day onward. He hadn’t seen the girl again, but that didn’t matter to him. For the first time in his life, he was focused on something outside of himself.

Thea and Tommy would never let him hear the end of it if they knew how much joy he took from art. It was his secret; it was his joy.

He enjoyed it so much that he often arrived an hour before his class and painted whatever image came to him. The classroom was always deserted and he was left in peace for a glorious hour, where he didn’t have to think about the other classes he was failing or the fact that his life was in high-priced, top-dollar freefall. He knew that he didn’t have to have his life all planned out by twenty, but he had absolutely nothing figured out. He was nothing like his peers. He’d broken up with his ex for the last time, his grades were shit, his best friend was actually succeeding in school and slowly drifting away from him, and everyone else only hung out with him for his money.

Art was his and his alone. He could pour all the crap from his life into it and it never judged him or told him he wasn’t good enough, like his parents would if they weren’t so busy screwing up their own lives.

The classroom smelled of paint and thinner, a heady swirl of awful that inevitably led to beautiful. He immediately flicked on the light by the door and went to the window to let some fresh air in and remove the stagnant stench. The breeze that brushed against his arm was chilly, tainted with the last hint of winter. It was probably too cold to have the window open, but it was tradition. It was part of his process. He laid his bag on the ground under the window and dug out his phone and brought up a playlist that had been three years in the making. He shuffled to the end of the list and hit play. The music mixed with the breeze, creating an ephemeral mixture of sounds that rooted him to the room and the present in a way that nothing else and no one could.

All of the supplies he needed were on the tables that lined the rectangular room. He pulled paper, watercolor supplies, and brushes from the back table. He put the paper on the easel and paused to think. He didn’t have a clear picture of what he wanted to create, but that had never stopped him before. Sometimes he knew; other times inspiration hit him in the moment. He listened to the song that was playing; he felt the cold on his skin; he focused on pushing out the world and everyone in it.

He closed his eyes for a minute, connecting to the song and bringing down his chaotic thoughts to a place of near mediation. When he opened them again, he knew what he wanted to say. He knew what he had to get out.

He went to work, the music fading to a distant buzz and the breeze no longer prickling his skin. He was untouchable and transcendent.

His picture, however, was not.

The colors weren’t bleeding together the way he wanted them to. He didn’t know enough about them. They were a mystery he was still unraveling. It wasn’t working. He stepped away from the paper and looked at the design. It was trite – a tree in the courtyard he had liked on his way into class, blossoming with pink and alone in its color and brightness against the backdrop of grey clouds and brown trees. It wasn’t special. And he had totally screwed it up.

He balled the paper up and threw it at the trashcan with a sigh. It landed just to the right and he sighed again. He went to retrieve it and heard the single strangest thing he had ever heard in his life.

A sneeze.

Coming from the cupboard.

He threw the paper away absently and followed the sound to its source. It was the cupboard along the same wall that held the door. The cupboard hung directly over the wooden, paint-covered table, and was a faded white, chipped paint at the corners and edges suggesting it had been in the room for decades at least.

A second sneeze drew him closer. His brow furrowed, his mind trying to piece together an explanation, he opened the door and felt surprise ripple through him. A very pretty girl was tucked neatly into the cabinet, her legs bent to her chest awkwardly. He blinked several times to clear his surprise, trying to understand even a single thing about what was a very bizarre sight, and her eyes widened, growing comically round at the sight of him staring at her. The shock she let him see mitigated his own. There was something just so honest and perfectly pure about her expression. It was not done to impress or sway. It was simply truth. She radiated with it.

She took him in for only a split second behind her glasses before her look of shock faded to one of panic. She tried to see beyond him, but he blocked most of her view. She reached out and took hold of the door, forcing his hand to drop away.

“Shhhh. I’m hiding,” she said, her voice a mixture of sweet and strong.

Then, without waiting for him to reply, she closed the door in his face.

“Um,” he began eloquently. It was then that he realized he had seen her before. Not in a cupboard, because he could not think of anyone he had ever met in such a weird place, but walking into a classroom so many weeks ago. The room he was currently in, as a matter of fact. He had followed her into the class, where she had dropped off some papers to the teacher and promptly left. It was that day that he had stayed, hoping she would come back, and had fallen in love with the lesson. “Are you okay?” he asked through the closed door.

“Dandy and fine,” she said cheerfully.

“You just said that you were hiding,” he replied.

“I am. And you’re talking. Which gives away my hiding place. So…shhh.”

“Why are you hiding?”

“Hide and seek?”

“Was that a question or a statement?”

“Statement?”

“You sound a little uncertain, and I’m not big on talking to people through closed doors…”

“You could go away,” she said.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” she said. “I would definitely like to experience this mortification in private, please.”

“Mortification from being found or from hiding?”

“Both sounds insanely accurate,” she replied after a pause that felt like a lifetime to him. He wanted her to keep talking. The world was brighter so long as her voice was in the air.

“I’ll go away so long as you tell me why you’re really hiding. Are you in trouble?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

“I haven’t yet,” he pointed out.

“That’s true,” she mused. “Although, you could be silently laughing. Some people do that, I hear. I can’t actually see you so I don’t know if you are or not.”

“That’s because you closed the door in my face,” he replied.

“Oh. Right.”

He reached out and slowly opened the door again. Her bright blue eyes shone back at him, and a deep feeling of absolute happiness settled into his stomach. It was weird, and fuzzy, and told him that this girl was most definitely trouble.

“Hi,” she said shyly when the light hit her face once more.

“Hi.”

There was a pause, not uncomfortable or awkward, but weighted and familiar. How strange that a girl he had only seen once before could make him feel so much peace.

“Your eyes are pretty,” she said, then color filled her cheeks and she sighed. She hit her head against the back of the cabinet with a solid thunk! that echoed dully. “Today sucks,” she lamented to herself.

He cocked an eyebrow at her and tried to keep himself from smiling, not wanting her to think he was laughing at her. He still felt his lips twitch upwards, however. It was only a lifetime of training from his parents and the media that kept him from full out smiling at her.

“You were about to tell me why you were hiding in a cabinet,” he prompted her.

“Was I?” she asked, nervous once more.

“Yes,” he said firmly.

She sighed. “My ex-boyfriend is a dirty, no good, cheating, lying asshat of a man.”

“Okay…”

“I caught him with another girl a month ago.”

His heart caught a little. He had cheated on his ex. He had been the bad guy in that situation. But he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt this girl, this ray of sunshine trapped in a cabinet. The idea was startlingly upsetting.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“S’okay,” she said. “You live and learn, and then you replace boys with pizza.” She tried to shrug, realized she couldn’t, and sighed irritably. “He’s been tracking me down between classes lately. Wants to talk, work things out, tell me how much he loves me. He’s probably just panicking because he realizes that his grades are falling and he doesn’t have me to help tutor him. That or else he realizes that his run of bad luck lately are the hacks I may have done when I caught him.” She jerked and hit her head against the cabinet. “And by hacks, I mean not hacking, as in not something I do because that would be wrong…”

“Your boyfriend cheated, has been following you, and this led you to the cabinet?” he asked.

“That was an excellent summation,” she said.

“Thanks,” he replied.

“I dodged him, but he’s pretty determined. I hid in here hoping he would go away, which I guess he did. I just didn’t realize it because you arrived a minute later and I thought you were him. Which is weird, because he never comes in here. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Guess not,” he said slowly, still working on not smiling.

“You want to laugh, don’t you?”

“So bad,” he replied, his smile finally blossoming.

Her entire face changed as she smiled, lighting up with such pure joy that he wondered how any being on earth could have that much honesty in their body. His resulting laugh escaped him before he could stop it. It was breathy and soft, but _real_ and that meant something. She giggled as well, and then paused thoughtfully.

“Your taste in music is terrible,” she added.

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for hiding in a cabinet,” he said.

“What were you doing in here, anyways?” she asked.

He scratched his neck awkwardly and looked at the trashcan, where his discarded work was currently hanging in balled-up splendor. “Uh…”

“I told you mine,” she grouched at him.

“I was painting.”

“Oh. That’s far more logical than my story. This is an art room. Why is that embarrassing?”

“I’m not exactly known for my artistic talent,” he said.

“I tried to draw those fruit baskets they put out once. It turned out very Surrealist. It was not on purpose. I like art, and art history, but my talent is in appreciating, not doing. Art is just not what these hands were built for.”

She held her hands up and wiggled them in front of her face.

He tilted his head at her comment, a thousand sexual things popping into his brain unbidden with her words at the same moment she seemed to realize what she had said.

“Worst day ever,” she grumbled cutely.

He smiled. “Well, I guess I have to uphold my end of the bargain and leave you alone. I’m glad you’re okay.”

She frowned in surprise as he reached out and gently closed the door between them once more. Her startled silence lasted all of five seconds; seconds in which he waited with a smile for her to say something, feeling without knowing how that she always had something to say.

“I take it back!” she called.

He reopened the door, his expression purposefully bland, and looked at her, wondering how she had ever managed to fit into the cabinet. She had to be very little. It was a strangely intoxicating thought.

“Hypothetically speaking,” she began, “how would you get out of a cabinet that you may or may not be stuck in?”

“Hypothetically speaking,” he returned, “I might ask the very handsome-”

“Ego,” she interjected.

“-very handsome man in front of me to ask for help,” he finished.

“Okay.” She reached out and closed the door between them again.

“Staying inside, then?” he asked.

“I’m considering what is more mortifying…staying in this cabinet until I die or getting helped by a man who has definitely seen me at my worst.”

“If this is your worst, your best must be out of this world amazing,” he said. He froze as the line, which was the definitely of cheesy, settled between them.

A second later, a bell-like twinkle of laughter reached out and graced his ears. He smiled, though his embarrassment was still simmering.

“That was awful,” she said. “And sweet. Alright. Help me out.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding eager even to his own ears.

“Please. It’s starting to hurt. I think I have a hernia everywhere. Can toes get hernias?”

He opened the door for the last time and held his hand out to her. The familiarity was pounding frantically in his chest once more, urging him to pay attention, to acknowledge the moment, to do something. She hesitated, her eyes shining with doubt and a darkness he recognized as pain from the past, but then she took his hand and everything was as it should be.

It was more awkward than he imagined, but, eventually, he managed to pull her arms into a more manageable position. He tugged slowly and she unraveled from the cabinet. He moved her hands so that they were around his neck, and then settled his onto her back as he gently and carefully pulled her the rest of the way out of the cabinet. He took his time, willing her not to get curious about why he was being so careful.

She was little and compact. Her feet dangled uselessly above the floor as he moved them away from the table. She tucked her nose into his shoulder as he shifted them – he wasn’t complaining – and her entire body was pressed against his. It stirred a more carnal reaction from him that he felt was better left unexplored while in the middle of a classroom that would soon be occupied.

Very slowly, entirely reluctantly, he lowered her to the floor, her bright pink flats touching the white tile with a flutter of color. Her hands moved to his waist and she smiled up at him, seemingly unaware of their nearness or the reactions he was having to her. Her head only came up to his shoulders. A wave of protectiveness surrounded him. She was so little, so bright, and he wanted nothing more than to protect that light, ensure that it stayed shining and full for the rest of her days.

“Thanks!” she gushed. “You’re a modern hero and a gentleman.”

“I’m neither,” he said, some of his happiness fading.

“You are to me,” she replied firmly. She turned away from him and his heart screamed that the distance wasn’t right. He ignored it, knowing he had no reason to keep touching her. Yet. She looked up and put her hands on her hips, looking tiny and strangely powerful.

“Piece of…” she started, before rubbing at her temples in resigned irritation.

He was so mesmerized looking at her that it took him a moment to follow her gaze. He realized she was looking at the cabinet again. She started to climb onto the table and he had a moment of panic, thinking she planned on shutting away her light once more. He put his hand on her shoulder and she paused.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“My bag. It’s still in there,” she replied, a blush heating her cheeks.

He moved his arm up without looking away from her and reached inside the cabinet. He pulled her bright bag out and handed it to her, his gaze still locked on hers. She looked back, not wavering, not intimidated, but clearly curious and a little embarrassed.

“See? Hero,” she said.

“Being tall is heroic now?” he asked.

“Heroism is in lots of things and in many moments,” she replied. She pulled her phone out from her bag and looked at it. “And I am going to be late to class if I don’t leave right this second.”

She pulled her bag onto her shoulders and started to walk away, the blush still heating her neck and cheeks. She paused before she hit the door and came back to him. She held her hand out for him to take.

“Felicity Smoak,” she introduced herself.

“Oliver. Queen,” he said, flinching a little as he said his name, wondering if she would have the reaction he was used to seeing in women – interest based off of what he could do for them monetarily and not because of who he was as a person.

She leaned forward a little, a secret between them. “I know.” She smiled brightly and pumped his hand once. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Felicity.”

“I’m going to go die of embarrassment now,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. She dropped his hand and he felt a wave of panic. What if he never saw her again? “Felicity?”

“Yeah?” she asked, gazing into his eyes with that familiar way once more.

“I’m usually here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at this time…if you ever decide to hide in the cabinet again. I can promise you a rescue whenever you need it.”

She considered him. “I may not be the only one in need of rescuing.”

She had no idea.

He smiled at the thought of her saving him, thinking it would be interesting to see her try to save someone like him, someone so battered and dark, and she waved awkwardly in a goodbye. A second later, she was gone, taking her light with her but the brightness lingering on the edges of his mind.

“Felicity Smoak,” he mused thoughtfully to the empty room, the smile growing wider and warmer.

He went back over to his easel, knowing that he had found his inspiration.


	7. All's Fair in Love and Adoption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blame Macha. Prompt: One person wants to adopt a dog but the other person adopts it first.
> 
> My first attempt at text message only story.

**Aug 12, 2016, Saturday:**

 

**3:00 PM, Felicity Smoak:**

: (

**3:02PM, Iris West:**

Happy Saturday to you, too.

**3:02PM, Felicity:**

*wails forever.

**3:03 PM, Felicity:**

*catches her breath, pants, then wails even more.

**3:03 PM, Iris:**

I’m gonna need context, babe.

**3:04 PM, Felicity:**

 

**3:05 PM, Iris:**

Awww!!! Cute puppy!

**3:06 PM, Iris:**

Wait, did something happen to it? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?

**3:07 PM, Felicity:**

Yes! You need to kick the ass of the deplorable, horrible, stupid human who decided to adopt MY puppy before I could get approval from my landlord.

**3:07 PM, Felicity:**

On the same day that I was coming to pick her up, too. I missed them by an hour. Roy, the guy who works here, said so. An hour!

**3:09 PM, Iris:**

Aw, babe, I’m sorry! But you can get another one, right? I’m sure they have more.

**3:12 PM, Iris:**

Felicity?

**3:15 PM, Iris:**

If you’re contemplating hacking the shelter, you should really reconsider. It’ll only be trouble.

**3:18 PM, Iris:**

If you don’t answer me back, I’m going to tell your mother you were asking me for a makeover.

**3:18 PM, Felicity:**

DON’T YOU DARE!

**3:19 PM, Felicity:**

We had bonded, Iris. Bonded! I don’t want to start all over. She was the one. She was special. I want her back. Maybe if I could just appeal to the person’s compassion…

**3:20 PM, Iris:**

You’ve already hacked the shelter, haven’t you?

**3:25 PM, Iris:**

Trouble, Felicity. Trouble.

 

**Aug 13, 2016, Sunday:**

 

**5:06 PM, Felicity:**

I HAVE MADE A MISTAKE AND I REGRET EVERY AND ALL THINGS AND I NEED YOU TO PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY.

**5:31 PM, Iris:**

Sorry. Was eating dinner with Barry and Dad. Like normal people do at this time. Instead of, you know, yelling at people in text messages. Also, I’m not going to kill you. Not this month at least.

**5:32 PM, Felicity:**

It would be a mercy killing.

**5:33 PM, Felicity:**

Gah! Just thinking about it is making me feel woozy. I would sit down if I wasn’t already.

**5:34 PM, Iris:**

Do you want me to call you?

**5:35 PM, Felicity:**

Yes, please.

 

**6:37 PM, Iris:**

I told Barry. He’s been laughing for ten minutes.

**6:38 PM, Felicity:**

Traitor.

**6:39 PM, Felicity:**

I’m gonna punch him next time I see him.

**6:40 PM, Felicity:**

Only a little though. I know you love him.

**6:40 PM, Iris:**

I do.

**6:41 PM, Iris:**

I can’t believe you stalked a guy.

**6:42PM, Felicity:**

I didn’t stalk him. I stalked a dog. MY dog.

**6:43 PM, Iris:**

So much better.

**6:44 PM, Felicity:**

I just happened to get a ping on a number I may or may not have found on adoption forms…and that ping happened to be in the park in my neighborhood, one that I was planning on taking MY dog when I got her…and I just happened to feel like a walk…and he just happened to be a he…and I just happened to come across them while he was playing with my puppy in the park. And I just happened to run into a bench when trying to get away from them before my puppy could get to me and ruin the whole thing. And he happened to see it. There’s nothing weird about it.

**6:47 PM, Iris:**

Either I’m out of touch or you need to work on your definition of weird.

**6:48 PM, Iris:**

What did he look like? You never said.

**7:00 PM, Iris:**

Fine. Be that way.

 

**Aug 14, 2016, Monday:**

**1:23 PM, Felicity:**

He was cute. But it doesn’t matter. I miss her. She’d be mine by now if it wasn’t for him.

**1:40 PM, Iris:**

Meet me for lunch. I’ll buy you a cookie.

**1:41 PM, Felicity:**

I always loved you best, West.

**1:42 PM, Iris:**

<3

 

**11:22PM, Felicity:**

U better treat her right, mister stupid face dog stealer.

**11:25 PM, Oliver Queen:**

I think you might have the wrong number?

**11:25 PM, Felicity:**

Pffffftttttttttt

**11:26 PM, Oliver:**

Was that a typo, or…?

**11:28 PM, Felicity:**

Thas the sound a person makes when ssomeone thinkss I’m capable of getting a number wrong.

**11:30 PM, Oliver:**

I’m confused. And, frankly, a little worried.

**11:32 PM, Felicity:**

Jus…Jus promise me that your gonna take care of her. That you won’t hurt her or take her to the pound without telling me.

**11:33 PM, Oliver:**

Is this about Honey?

**11:35 PM, Felicity:**

Thas what you named her? I was gonna name her Emma or Princess Puppy. Couldn make up my mind.

**11:36 PM, Oliver:**

I have a lot of questions, but the primary one is: are you drunk?

**11:30 PM, Felicity:**

I was feelin sad and missin Princess Puppy and got into ma wine. I never drink this much during the week. I’m a very serius busness person.

**11:30 PM, Felicity:**

I woulda been a good dog mom.

**11:31 PM, Felicity:**

I woulda!

**11:32 PM, Oliver:**

Okay...So, let me get this straight. You wanted Honey. I adopted her first. You somehow got my number, and now you’re texting me drunk because you miss Honey. That right?

**11:34 PM, Felicity:**

U shoulda been a detective.

**11:35 PM, Oliver:**

I am.

**11:40 PM, Oliver:**

I’m kidding. But I’m curious about you…Particularly how you got this number.

**11:41 PM, Felicity Smoak:**

Can u please jus promise me youll take care of her? Plese?

**11:43 PM, Oliver:**

I promise. She’s surrounded by people who love her, and she will never see the inside of a pound again.

**11:44 PM, Felicity:**

thanx

**11:46 PM, Oliver:**

I guess you’re not going to tell me your name?

**11:50 PM, Oliver:**

Goodnight, whoever you are.

 

**Aug 15 2016, Tuesday:**

**7:34 AM, Felicity:**

CALL ME THE MINUTE YOU WAKE UP. I’M SERIOUS! DEFCON 5 EMERGENCY!

**8:00 AM, Iris:**

I’ll call you in ten. I’m already running late, so you’ll have to talk to me on the train.

**8:01 AM, Felicity:**

HURRY!!!!!!!

 

**3:28 PM, Roy Harper:**

I don’t know what you did, or how you did it, but you are lucky that I was at the front today and not Georgia.

**3:40 PM, Felicity:**

Hi, Roy.

**3:41 PM, Roy:**

Nope. Not after I spent fifteen minutes explaining to a guy that I couldn’t help him track down the woman WHO SOMEHOW GOT HIS TELEPHONE NUMBER THAT HE GAVE TO US.

**3:42 PM, Felicity:**

I’m preparing for a big meeting I have in ten, but I promise to explain later. Whatever you did, though, I appreciate it, and I owe you.

**3:43 PM, Roy Harper:**

Yeah, you do.

 

**5:35 PM, Felicity:**

It got worse.

**5:36 PM, Iris:**

Hahahaha

**5:36 PM, Felicity:**

We’re no longer friends.

**5:38 PM, Iris:**

You have no one to blame but yourself. And your need to control a situation that was COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR CONTROL.

**5:39 PM, Felicity:**

I thought you were done yelling at me this morning?

**5:40 PM, Iris:**

Have you learned your lesson?

**5:45 PM, Felicity:**

That I love too strongly?

**5:46 PM, Iris:**

Felicity…

**5:47 PM, Felicity:**

I know, I know. I shoulda let it go. But it’s hard for me to bond with animals so completely. And I did with her, and I reacted before I thought it through. I just thought I’d found something, someone, to make me feel a little less…alone.

**5:48 PM, Iris:**

You know you’ll always have me. And all your friends. We’re here for you.

**5:50 PM, Felicity:**

I know, and you have no idea how happy that makes me. But it’s different. And seeing everyone with someone…It’s silly, but I thought if I had Princess Puppy to focus on, then I wouldn’t feel so…

**5:51 PM, Iris:**

Jealous?

**5:52 PM, Felicity:**

God, that sounds so horrible.

**5:52 PM, Felicity:**

You know I’m happy for you, right? And Barry?

**5:53 PM, Iris:**

It’s okay to feel that way. I get it. I’m not angry. And I get why you’re upset. But you have to let her go. It’s just gonna hurt worse if you keep checking on her. And at least now you know she’s okay.

**5:54 PM, Iris:**

You didn’t do a background check, though? Please say no.

**5:56, Felicity:**

I thought about it, but I didn’t want to dig around in his life. Thought that would be too creepy. I just wanted to see him with her…and make sure he understand that he HAS to take care of her.

**5:56, Iris:**

Good!

**5:57, Iris:**

I love you.

**5:58, Felicity:**

I love you, too.

 

**11:22 PM, Oliver:**

So, how did you get my number?

**11:30 PM, Oliver:**

Are you there?

**11:31 PM, Felicity:**

I was trying to think of something clever. Mostly my brain just made screeching noises.

**11:32 PM, Oliver:**

Ah.

**11:32 PM, Oliver:**

So?

**11:33 PM, Felicity:**

I know magic.

**11:34 PM, Oliver:**

Okay. Then I won’t send you a picture of Honey.

**11:36 PM, Felicity:**

That’s harsh, but fair.

**11:37 PM, Felicity:**

Why do you care so much how I got your number?

**11:39 PM, Oliver:**

I got Honey to be a guard dog. There have been some…concerns about my safety. And I just want to understand, to be sure.

**11:39 PM, Felicity:**

Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.

**11:40 PM, Oliver:**

You didn’t freak me out. I just want to be sure there’s not a security concern here.

**11:41 PM, Felicity:**

Hang on.

**11:42 PM, Oliver:**

Huh?

**11:43 PM, Oliver:**

???

**12:00 AM, Oliver:**

Did you really just remotely secure my entire condo and electronics and send me an email from myself on ways to reset the passwords so you won’t have them? How did you do that?

**12:01 AM, Oliver:**

This is ridiculous. This entire situation is ridiculous.

**12:05 AM, Oliver:**

But thank you.

 

**Aug 17, 2016, Thursday:**

 

**1:42 PM Barry Allen:**

If you miss family dinner again this week because of an emergency at work, I will disown you.

**1:44 PM, Felicity:**

You’re being dramatic today.

**1:45 PM, Barry:**

I’ve spending too much time with you and Iris.

**1:47 PM, Felicity:**

Okay, Mr. Scream Wildly Every Time He Sees A Spider Allen.

**1:48 PM, Barry:**

…They don’t move right.

**1:50 PM, Felicity:**

I Googled spider pictures to send you and freaked myself out.

**1:50 PM, Barry:**

Serves you right. So, tonight?

**1:52 PM, Felicity:**

I DO have several projects that are behind right now, Barry, but I will try. I swear it.

**1:54 PM, Barry:**

That’s all I ask.

 

**2:00 PM, Iris:**

Can you come to the family dinner tonight?

**2:02 PM, Felicity:**

I already told Barry I would try!!

**2:05 PM, Iris:**

I really need you to be there.

**2:06 PM, Iris:**

It’s a big deal.

**2:06 PM, Felicity:**

Oh. Intrigue.

**2:07 PM, Iris:**

Can I tell you a secret?

**2:08 PM, Felicity:**

YES PLEASE.

**2:10 PM, Iris:**

I’m gonna ask Barry to marry me tonight. I’ve invited all the usual suspects, but I need you there. You’re the one who matters most.

**2:15 PM, Iris:**

Felicity? Please say something.

**2:16 PM, Felicity:**

Sorry. I screamed, did a happy dance, then had to explain to the staff that I was not having a heart attack.

**2:17 PM, Iris:**

: )

 

**8:48 PM, Roy:**

We’re getting ready to close.

 **8:48 PM, Felicity** :

You could walk back here and tell me that.

**8:49 PM, Roy:**

Yeah.

**8:50 PM, Felicity:**

Just give me five more minutes? It’s been an emotional day, and I need a few more snuggles.

**8:51 PM, Roy:**

I will lock you in here at 9. I don’t get paid enough to babysit you, too.

**8:52 PM, Roy:**

Okay. I don’t mean to freak you out, but that guy is back.

**8:53 PM, Roy:**

What just crashed? And why are the dogs barking? Felicity??

**9:00 PM, Roy:**

The guy just left a $5,000 donation. Didn’t mention you. And I would have loved to see you crawl out that back window. Paid actual money.

**9:20 PM, Felicity:**

$5,000?!!

**9:40 PM, Felicity:**

Ugh. Whatever.

 

**11:22 PM, Felicity:**

Do you ever feel really sad and really happy at the same time?

**11:23 PM, Oliver:**

Isn’t that what they call bittersweet?

**11:24 PM, Felicity:**

I’m not bitter. Not really. Just lonely.

**11:25 PM, Felicity:**

Oh. God. I need to stop typing so fast and pressing send before I think through my messages.

**11:26 PM, Oliver:**

There’s no shame in being lonely. We’re all a little lonely.

**11:28 PM, Felicity:**

Not my friends. They’re all matched off - all have their other half. My best friend just proposed to my other best friend. I was incredibly happy. I am happy. So, so happy. But it was just another reminder that I work so much and come home to an empty apartment every night. And I have no one to blame but myself.

**11:28 PM, Felicity:**

Son of a – Ignore that.

**11:29 PM, Oliver:**

Nope.

**11:29 PM, Felicity:**

Rude.

**11:30 PM, Oliver:**

 

**11:30 PM, Oliver:**

Thought Honey might help?

**11:31 PM, Felicity:**

She does. Thank you.

**11:34 PM, Oliver:**

Are you ever gonna tell me your name?

**11:40 PM, Oliver Queen:**

Goodnight, Princess Puppy.

 

**Aug 18, 2016, Friday:**

 

**10:03 AM, Iris:**

Barry was talking like he was gonna ask you to be his best man. I think he was kidding, but you know you belong to me, right?

**11:00 AM, Felicity:**

Totally.

**11:02 AM, Iris:**

Good.

 

**3:23 PM, Felicity:**

Whatdoidowhatdoidowhatdoido?

**3:25 PM, Iris:**

Is that a song I don’t know about?

**3:27 PM, Felicity:**

I just ran into Princess Puppy’s owner. I mean Honey’s owner. Oliver. His name is Oliver. And I mean I literally ran into him. Like, the movies, without the being caught part. I bounced off him, hit the wall, then whimpered. Actually whimpered.

**3:28 PM, Iris:**

Are you okay?!!

**3:30 PM, Felicity:**

It only cost me my dignity. He was really nice. Kept apologizing. Asked me if I needed anything. And I could only stare at him. Because not only are his eyes very immaculate in the most immaculate of ways…but I finally recognized him as more than my puppy stealer.

**3:31 PM, Iris:**

Oh, you know him?

**3:33 PM, Felicity:**

Everyone knows him. It’s Oliver Queen. Oliver fraking Queen is my puppy stealer.

**3:34 PM, Iris:**

Where were you? What was he wearing? How did he smell?

**3:35 PM, Felicity:**

Um, what?

**3:36 PM, Iris:**

*unashamed.

**3:37 PM, Felicity:**

He came in to the offices to talk to Digg. Wanted to hire a guard for his sister. You know, Thea Queen. Of the Queens. Of the, you know, Queen family.

**3:38 PM, Iris:**

Yeah, I do know. They had that man attack them a few months ago. Nearly killed him and his sister. Something about his dad closing the factory down? I can’t remember. I was covering the thing in Central then.

**3:39 PM, Felicity:**

There was an accident at the factory. A man died. The man who attacked Oliver and Thea was the man’s brother.

**3:41 PM, Iris:**

That’s so sad.

**3:43 PM, Felicity:**

Yeah. It is.

**3:46 PM, Iris:**

Is Digg gonna do it?

**3:49 PM, Felicity:**

I think so.

**3:53 PM, Iris:**

So, Oliver Queen, puppy stealer, will now officially be under your protection.

**3:54 PM, Felicity:**

Digg’s. I let him pick his own clients.

**3:55 PM, Iris:**

You still pay his salary. So, yeah, your protection.

**3:56 PM, Iris:**

AKA: PLOT TWIST!

**3:58 PM, Felicity:**

Go away.

 

**11:22 PM, Oliver:**

Honey barked for three hours straight today while I was gone. My neighbor counted the minutes. That was a fun discussion.

**11:23 PM, Felicity:**

Knew she’d be better off with me.

**11:23 PM, Oliver:**

Nope. I think she’s just a little lonely.

**11:25 PM, Felicity:**

Sounds familiar.

**11:26 PM, Oliver:**

What do you think I should do?

**11:27 PM, Felicity:**

I’m not a dog trainer. I’ve never even owned a dog. Princess Puppy was going to be my first.

**11:28 PM, Oliver:**

But you know her, right? You’ve spent some time with her?

**11:29 PM, Felicity:**

She used to bark every time I left. The only thing that would get her to calm down was her favorite toy. Didn’t they give it to you?

**11:30 PM, Oliver:**

No.

**11:32 PM, Felicity:**

Poor Princess Puppy.

**11:33 PM, Oliver:**

That is such a bad name.

**11:34 PM, Felicity:**

Says you.

**11:35 PM, Oliver:**

Says everyone. Including my sister, who once named a cat Professor Suck It, because she was angry at my mom and wanted her to have to say it. My mom was very proper, and the look on her face when she conceded was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

**11:36 PM, Felicity:**

hahahahaha!!

**11:37 PM, Oliver:**

Can you please tell me something about you? Anything? It doesn’t have to be your name. I just…Please?

**11:39 PM, Felicity:**

I’m a girl. The kind that you only see when she’s doing something clumsy. 25 years old. I like to read books on rainy days and listen to radio programs in other languages I don’t understand when I’m doing chores, because it soothes me. And though I’m happy Princess Puppy is with you, someone I know who is looking after her, I go to the shelter sometimes to snuggle the other dogs and it just makes me feel sad. Because it’s not the same. And I work too hard. Way too hard. I’ve worked 60 hours this week.

**11:42 PM, Felicity:**

Not trying to make you feel guilty. I swear.

**11:43 PM, Oliver:**

I know. : )

**11:44 PM, Oliver:**

This might sound weird, but you can come see her sometimes. Maybe?

**11:57 PM, Felicity:**

I...I dunno.

**11:58 PM, Oliver:**

There’s a park near my house. McArthur. It’s great for dogs. We go there on Saturdays in the afternoons, around 3.

**11:59 PM, Felicity:**

For someone being careful about his security, that was awfully unsecure.

**11:59 PM, Oliver:**

I guess I just trust you for some reason.

**12:05AM, Felicity:**

I really am glad that she went to you, Oliver. Seriously. I’ll have her toy left with Roy if you want to pick it up. But I need to go. 60 hours are catching up.

**12:06 AM, Oliver:**

Okay. Goodnight.

**12:10 AM, Oliver:**

Wait a minute. You know my name?

**12:25 AM, Oliver:**

Add stubborn to your descriptor next time.

 

**Aug 19, 2016, Saturday:**

 

**4:05 PM, Felicity:**

Please let a hole open up under my feet and swallow me whole.

**4:06 PM, Iris:**

Is this about Oliver again?

**4:08 PM, Felicity:**

I went for a run. Because the weather’s nice.

**4:09 PM, Iris:**

And because Oliver said he takes Honey to the park on Saturdays.

**4:10 PM, Felicity:**

Everything’s fine. Feeling a bit of a cramp in my butt, nothing major. I circle the park. Casual like. See him playing with Honey, teaching her some commands. It was ADORABLE. I mean, the level of adorable that make babies, giraffes, and tiny puppies sigh. He was so serious, and Honey was so…I miss her.

**4:11 PM, Felicity:**

Not the point.

**4:11 PM, Felicity:**

The point is that a couple got into a fight as I was passing near Oliver. The woman threw her entire 64 oz of slushy at her girlfriend. It missed. Hit me. I’m now covered in blue slushy.

**4:12 PM, Felicity:**

The couple keeps fighting, but the whole park is watching now. I’m soaking wet. Shocked. And Oliver, acting all serious and stern, gets them to stop arguing and apologize to me.

**4:12 PM, Iris:**

AWWWW!!!!!

**4:13 PM, Felicity:**

Not the worst part. Still couldn’t talk to him. I was terrified that he would know who I am if I spoke, and I’m not ready to meet him as the weird girl who texts him sometimes. So I just looked at him like a lost puppy. Then Honey was there, and I picked her up without thinking and started petting her. And she was licking me face. And he was staring at me like I was a crazy person. Which is probably accurate.

**4:14 PM, Felicity:**

For all he knew, I was a stranger who had just picked up his dog, a dog that was LICKING BLUE SLUSHY OFF MY FACE. And I still didn’t speak. Words were just…gone. Poof! I pet Honey one more time, and held her out to him like she was burning me.

**4:15 PM, Felicity:**

He took Honey, this cute little frowny thing on his face, and he asks if I’m the same girl from before – the one who knocked into him at Smoak, Inc.

**4:16 PM, Felicity:**

So I squeak. Honest-to-god squeak. Then shrug and smile at him. And then I just…run off.

**4:17 PM, Felicity:**

What is wrong with me?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**4:20 PM, Iris:**

I’m coming over. With wine.

**4:21 PM, Felicity:**

Bless you and your beautiful mind.

 

**Aug 20, 2016, Sunday:**

 

**11:22 PM, Oliver:**

Are you okay? You didn’t answer last night. Not that you have to answer. I just wanted to be sure you were okay. You don’t have to answer this either.

**11:25 PM, Felicity:**

I’m not an alcoholic.

**11:25 PM, Oliver:**

Okay?

**11:25 PM, Felicity:**

But I had wine with my best friend in the whole world and we passed out to a re-watch of Mulan. She actually passed out on me. I have the drool spots on my pajamas to prove it.

**11:26 PM, Oliver:**

That sounds like a good night.

**11:27 PM, Felicity:**

Better than my day.

**11:28 PM, Oliver:**

Want to talk about it?

**11:29 PM, Felicity:**

No. Absolutely not.

**11:31 PM, Felicity:**

Not that I don’t like talking to you! It’s just…it’s mortifying.

**11:32 PM, Oliver:**

I had drinks with my best friend, Tommy, tonight. We didn’t pass out on each other, though. Not really our style. If you know my name, I’m guessing you know my history?

**11:33 PM, Felicity:**

Just gossip...and the more recent things. Didn’t grow up here, so I missed most of the tabloids. And I don’t like to go digging around in people’s pasts unless they willingly offer it. Or if someone is going after one of my clients and they need to feel my technological wrath.

**11:34 PM, Oliver:**

LoL

**11:35 PM, Oliver:**

So you know enough to know that I’m not exactly one to judge.

**11:37 PM, Felicity:**

That’s a relief. ; )

**11:38 PM, Oliver:**

And Thea said that she got the same weird email I got, though she didn’t know it was from you. She was a little freaked out until I explained that we have a technological ghost hovering. But thank you. Again. Her safety means everything.

**11:39 PM, Felicity:**

Anything for a friend.

**11:40 PM, Oliver:**

Is that what we are?

**11:48 PM, Felicity:**

If you’d like to be.

**11:49 PM, Oliver:**

I do.

**11:50 PM, Felicity:**

I have to go. Early morning. Tell Honey goodnight for me.

**11:51 PM, Oliver:**

She says goodnight back.

**11:52 PM, Oliver:**

Until next time…

 

**Aug 21, 2016, Monday:**

 

**8:50 PM, Roy:**

That guy came back and donated another 5g. Then tried to ask about you again. This is getting ridiculous. Tell him your name already.

**8:51 PM, Felicity:**

Mind your own business.

**8:55 PM, Roy:**

I would mind my own business if you two would stop putting me into the middle of yours.

**8:56 PM, Felicity:**

It’s complicated.

**8:57 PM, Roy:**

No. You’re just scared.

 

**9:52 PM, Iris:**

I hate planning weddings. I just want to be with Barry, do my job, and have peace at the end of the day. Now I’m looking at patterns, color swatches, and venues. I am so bored.

**9:54 PM, Barry:**

Tell Iris to pay attention. This is the biggest day of our lives.

**9:55 PM, Iris:**

Is Barry texting you?

**9:56 PM, Felicity:**

Switzerland speaking, please leave a message at the beep.

**9:57 PM, Felicity:**

BEEEEPPPPPPPPP

 

**11:22 PM, Felicity:**

How’s my Honey Boo-Bear?

**11:22 PM, Oliver:**

No.

**11:23 PM, Oliver:**

You’re not calling her that.

**11:23 PM, Oliver:**

Ever.

**11:24 PM, Felicity:**

You’re no fun.

**11:25 PM, Oliver:**

I’m exhausted.

**11:26 PM, Felicity:**

Oh. Do you need to go to bed?

**11:27 PM, Oliver:**

No. I’d rather talk to you.

**11:29 PM, Felicity:**

Well, do you want to talk about it?

**11:31 PM, Oliver:**

I had back-to-back meetings, then one of those events where everyone wants to talk to you, but no one really cares what you have to say. They just want to say they talked to you. I was passed around like a piece of meat. And I felt so lonely. So seen without being seen. All I could think about was getting back to Honey and taking off this stupid suit.

**11:31 PM, Oliver:**

(Who has stopped barking, thanks to you)

**11:32 PM, Felicity:**

Ohhhh…I’ve been to a few of those events. They are the literal worst. Just…ghastly. All the hugs.

**11:33 PM, Oliver:**

It would be easier to imagine the hugs if I knew what you looked like…or even, say, your name.

**11:35 PM, Felicity:**

Oh, hey, look at the time! Gotta go!

**11:35 PM, Oliver:**

No. Wait. Please don’t go.

**11:37 PM, Felicity:**

Only if you promise to laugh at the following story I’m going to tell you.

**11:38 PM, Oliver:**

I promise.

 

**Aug 22, 2016, Tuesday:**

 

**1:10 PM, Iris:**

I know that this is boring, but please stay awake for Barry’s sake. He’s super excited about the china for some reason.

**1:11 PM, Felicity:**

Sorry. Late night.

**1:12 PM, Iris:**

That smile was far too big for it to be a night full of coding.

**1:13 PM, Felicity:**

I wasn’t smiling.

**1:14 PM, Iris:**

Yeah, and I’m not arching my eyebrow at you.

**1:15 PM, Felicity:**

Your brows look great today, by the way.

**1:16 PM, Iris:**

Details.

**1:17 PM, Felicity:**

I just…we stayed up until about 2 texting. I lost track of time, I guess.

**1:18 PM, Iris:**

Smiling again.

**1:19 PM Iris:**

You like him?

**1:20 PM, Felicity:**

Doesn’t matter. I can’t even tell him my real name, because I’ve embarrassed myself in front of him so many times. Besides, he doesn’t date girls like me.

**1:21 PM, Iris:**

You’re lucky we have witnesses or I would strangle you.

**1:22 PM, Felicity:**

Violent.

**1:23, Iris:**

How about you give him the chance to make up his own mind?

**1:24 PM, Felicity:**

I really like talking to him. And he tells me about Honey.

**1:25 PM, Iris:**

I’ve never heard you sigh that loudly in my life.

**1:25 PM, Felicity:**

Abort, abort. Barry is frowning. He sees us. Act natural.

 

**1:35 PM, Barry:**

You’re both awful people.

 

**3:35 PM, Diggle:**

The littlest Queen slipped her escort. I’m trying to track her now, but she’s pretty sneaky for a 17 year old.

**3:36 PM, Felicity:**

Do you need me to find her?

**3:37 PM, Diggle:**

Give me twenty.

 

**4:00 PM, Diggle:**

Found her. I think she needs a woman.

**4:02 PM, Felicity:**

Huh?

**4:03 PM, Diggle:**

She’s upset. I gave her a hug, but I think she needs an older woman. Someone near her age, but older. Someone who is currently five floors above us.

**4:03 PM, Felicity:**

I don’t know her!

**4:04 PM, Diggle:**

Doesn’t matter. She needs someone, and you’re all I’ve got right now.

**4:05 PM, Felicity:**

Fine. But if I mess her up worse, I’m blaming you.

**4:07 PM, Diggle:**

That won’t happen.

**4:07 PM, Diggle:**

You’re you.

**4:08 PM, Diggle:**

Heads up.

 

**9:52 PM, Felicity:**

I am in it deep.

**9:59 PM, Iris:**

What happened?

**10:03 PM, Felicity:**

He came into the office today. Some trouble with his sister. Family stuff. Private. He swooped into the room like a bird of prey, all tense and muscly and worried. He pulled her to him and just held her, and it was the most tender, most wonderful, most god awful thing I’ve ever seen.

**10:04 PM, Iris:**

God awful?!!!!

**10:08 PM, Felicity:**

I think I like him.

**10:09 PM, Felicity:**

This will not end well.

 

**11:15 PM, Oliver:**

I’m early, but I don’t care. I need to talk to you.

**11:17 PM, Felicity:**

I’m here.

**11:18 PM, Oliver:**

Hi.

**11:18 PM, Felicity:**

Hi.

**11:19 PM, Oliver:**

7 months ago today my parents died. An accident. A fluke. A thing that never should have happened. My sister does not take this day well. She went to visit their graves. It broke her heart all over again. I don’t know how to help her.

**11:21 PM, Felicity:**

I have no doubt that you’re doing everything you can.

**11:22 PM, Oliver:**

It’s not enough.

**11:24 PM, Felicity:**

Do you tell her you love her? Do you let her know that you care?

**11:25 PM, Oliver:**

Every day.

**11:26 PM, Felicity:**

Then it’s enough.

**11:29 PM, Oliver:**

This might make you mad, but I’m glad I “stole” Honey from you.

**11:30 PM, Oliver:**

And that you’re so stubborn – stubborn enough to get my number from the shelter.

**11:32 PM, Oliver:**

Please tell me your name.

**11:35 PM, Felicity:**

I’m not being obtuse. I just…you wouldn’t like me if you knew who I was.

**11:36 PM, Oliver:**

Impossible.

**11:37 PM, Felicity:**

I like talking to you. And the updates on Honey. And if you knew who I was, you’d not be so interested in talking to me. I like who I am, what I’ve accomplished, but I know men. I know what I am to them. So I’d just like to keep the status quo. Please.

**11:40 PM, Oliver:**

It must be nice to know what everyone is like before you’ve given them the chance.

**11:43 PM, Felicity:**

I HAVE given them the chance. Why do you think I’m so alone?

**11:44 PM, Oliver:**

I like who you are. And I don’t see that changing, despite what you think.

**11:45 PM, Felicity:**

I’m not there yet. I’m sorry.

**11:48 PM, Oliver:**

Fine. Then I suppose I’ll just have to get to know you better and prove it to you.

**11:49 PM, Felicity:**

You still want to?

**11:49 PM, Oliver:**

I do.

**11:50 PM, Oliver:**

Tell me your top five favorites.

**11:51 PM, Felicity:**

This game? Ha. Okay. Of what?

**11:53 PM, Oliver:**

Of whatever. Just something…

**11:54 PM, Felicity:**

You like impossible questions.

**11:55 PM, Oliver:**

And people, apparently.

**11:56 PM, Felicity:**

: )

 

**Aug 26, 2016, Saturday:**

 

**4:09 PM, Felicity:**

HOW COULD IT POSSIBLY GET WORSE???!!!!!

**4:35 PM, Iris:**

Oh. No. What happened?

**4:40 PM, Felicity:**

I went running. Because this is the time I run, okay? And everything was fine. No birds to poop on me. No slushies to be heaved at my head. Everything is dandy. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m getting fit.

**4:41 PM, Iris:**

Do you always have to do this?

**4:42 PM, Felicity:**

So, out of nowhere comes this clown. I think it was from a children’s party? The park WAS super busy. It just appears, like a ninja clown. It startles me and I react, violently. I spray my pepper spray that I have on my keys.

**4:43 PM Iris:**

Nononononononono

**4:44 PM, Felicity:**

Yup. The wind shifts and suddenly Oliver is getting the worst of it. I rush over and pick Honey up, to shield her from the spray, and Oliver is practically crying from the pain. The clown is hovering, freaking me out, and Honey is happily licking my face. It’s basically my worst nightmare.

**4:45 PM, Felicity:**

I MADE HIM CRY.

**4:46 PM, Felicity:**

I SPRAYED HIM WITH PEPPER SPRAY AND MADE HIM CRY.

**4:47 PM, Felicity:**

He had to go to the hospital. Thea had to come get Honey.

**4:50 PM, Felicity:**

I hope he doesn’t press charges.

**5:00 PM, Iris:**

I’m actually speechless. That is…something.

**5:05 PM, Felicity:**

I’m going home and getting drunk until I can’t remember any of this.

**5:09 PM, Iris:**

Barry and I will be over in an hour.

 

 **Aug 27, 2016, Sunday** :

 

**11:22 PM, Oliver:**

Sorry I didn’t text yesterday. I was indisposed.

**11:25 PM, Felicity:**

It’s fine.

**11:27 PM, Oliver:**

Is it weird that I’ve become dependent on these nightly chats?

**11:28 PM, Felicity:**

Maybe. But I am, too.

**11:28 PM, Felicity:**

We can be weird together.

**11:29 PM, Oliver:**

I hope so.

**11:32 PM, Felicity:**

…are you flirting with me?

**11:33 PM, Oliver:**

Yes.

**11:34 PM, Felicity:**

I could have scales, or a face full of warts, or a tail. Definitely a tail. I saw a program on that once.

**11:35 PM, Oliver:**

You’re good with computers. I have a second sense about women being beautiful. We all have our talents.

**11:36 PM, Felicity:**

And what a talent to have.

**11:37 PM, Oliver:**

Besides, I’m flirting with the girl on here who makes me laugh. The rest is irrelevant.

**11:45 PM, Oliver:**

You still there?

**11:47 PM, Felicity:**

Yup. Yes…Just…*insert something cool here so he doesn’t know I have no idea how to respond.

**11:48 PM, Oliver:**

*laughs and gently reminds you that you owe me the story of how your best friend got trapped in her steering wheel.

**11:49 PM, Felicity:**

It’s a story of adventure, of intrigue, of a scientific mind at work. (and a competitive spirit). Prepare yourself.

**11:50 PM, Oliver:**

** **

**11:51 PM, Felicity:**

Shut up. And stop distracting me. This is a very serious story.

**11:51 PM, Oliver:**

Yes, ma’am.

 

**Aug 29, 2016, Tuesday:**

 

**1:24 PM, Iris:**

Why did I want to get married again?

**1:30 PM, Felicity:**

Because you’re madly in love.

**1:31 PM, Felicity:**

More planning?

**1:32 PM, Iris:**

IT’S SO BORING AND I DO NOT CARE IF MY GUESTS EAT FISH OR CHICKEN. I JUST WANT THIS TO BE OVER.

 

**1:35 PM, Barry:**

Hey! What do you think would be better – fish or chicken? Iris can’t seem to make up her mind, and I need some input.

**1:36 PM, Felicity:**

Elopement. That’s what’s better.

**1:37 PM, Felicity:**

(Serve both. Options are better.)

**1:40 PM, Barry:**

Thanks!

 

**3:45 PM, Diggle:**

Littlest Queen is headed your way. She’s in a mood.

**3:46 PM, Felicity:**

Tell her I’m busy!

**3:47 PM, Felicity:**

Digg?

 

**4:56 PM, Felicity:**

You’re not funny.

**4:57 PM, Diggle:**

As if I could stop her.

**4:58 PM, Felicity:**

She spent thirty minutes making fun of me about spraying her brother in the face with pepper spray. 30 minutes I could have been coding. And that was after ten minutes of lecturing me on not using the pepper spray so carelessly.

**5:00 PM, Diggle:**

You enjoyed the visit. Stop whining.

**5:01 PM, Diggle:**

Now if only you could find a way to actually talk to the brother, huh?

**5:30 PM, Felicity:**

You’re fired.

**6:00 PM, Diggle:**

Uh-huh. See you tomorrow. Don’t work too late.

**6:05 PM, Felicity:**

Night, Digg.

 

**11:22 PM, Felicity:**

Okay. I have to know. Roy says you dropped off another check at the shelter. Pllleeeeasssseee explain. It’s killing me.

**11:23 PM, Oliver:**

I found out that you upgraded Tommy’s online security after I ranted about how he doesn’t take it seriously.

**11:24 PM, Felicity:**

That could have been anyone.

**11:24 PM, Oliver:**

Nope.

**11:25 PM, Felicity:**

I still don’t get it?

**11:26 PM, Oliver:**

I figured you’d hate it if I tried to pay you, so I donate what I think is a reasonable fee to the shelter so that they can help more dogs. It sounded like something you would do.

**11:27 PM, Felicity:**

Oh. That’s…I’m…words.

**11:28 PM, Oliver:**

: )

**11:29 PM, Oliver:**

I have to go to another event tomorrow. It’s gonna suck. I wish you could come.

**11:30 PM, Felicity:**

You can text me and I’ll help you through it.

**11:31 PM, Oliver:**

Text you at some other time than our normal date? Heresy!

**11:32 PM, Felicity:**

Date?

**11:33 PM, Oliver:**

What else would you call it?

**11:34 PM, Felicity:**

You can text me whenever you want. I don’t mind.

**11:35 PM, Oliver:**

Good to know.

 

 **Aug 30, 2016, Wednesday** :

 

**9:35 PM, Felicity:**

So I was prepared to spend the night watching TV and eating an entire cake by myself, because I’ve earned it, then Ray Palmer – remember him? Angel investor, on the board of my company. Yeah, that guy. He makes the “suggestion” that I represent Smoak, Inc. at a celebration of small businesses in Star City.

**9:36 PM, Iris:**

Why do I feel like this story doesn’t end well?

**9:37 PM, Felicity:**

I don’t want to go. I really don’t. But I need to schmooze. I know it. Everyone knows it. It’s good for business. So I go. Wearing my work clothes, but I go. It’s fine. I’m making the rounds. I manage to make that stick in the mud Ted Kord laugh. I haven’t tripped on anything. I’m feeling pretty good about things.

**9:38 PM, Iris:**

Dramatic turn for the worse?

**9:39 PM, Felicity:**

DRAMTIC TURN FOR THE WORSE!

**9:40 PM, Felicity:**

So, I’m there for about forty-five minutes when…OLIVER SHOWS UP. He’s stupidly pretty in his suit. He looks like he just got done with a photoshoot. It’s ridiculous, and I want to file a complaint with whoever made him look that way.

**9:41 PM, Felicity:**

He’s there about five minutes – I’m avoiding him because, hello! pepper spray in the face – when he spots me. He looks a little concerned, like he’s wondering if I have more pepper spray. I try to go another way, to get out of his line of sight and…knock into Madeline Holt. THAT Madeline Holt. The one who manages all society in Star City since Moira Queen’s passing. She’s a powerful lady. And I just knocked into her.

**9:42 PM, Felicity:**

Luckily, all the wine went on me and not her. And she actually apologized to me. She thought it was her fault. She was surprisingly nice. But I’m still standing in a room full of pretty important people with red wine all down my front.

**9:43 PM, Felicity:**

I try to escape again. To get clean, and I nearly run into Oliver. He grabs me to keep me from falling and escorts me to the bathroom, saying, “it was probably safer for everyone involved.”

**9:44 PM, Felicity:**

I still HAVEN’T SAID A WORD. I’m just trying to find a way to apologize for the pepper spray, but he was touching me, and his hands are so warm, and he smelled so amazing, and I felt like I was in middle school again.

**9:45 PM, Felicity:**

And he just smiles at me, like he’s amused, when we get to the bathroom, like I’m the biggest idiot on the planet.

**9:46 PM, Felicity:**

He mentions his sister, and her visit, and I finally speak. FINALLY. And it’s only to say that Thea scolded me for the pepper spray incident, and that I was sorry it hit him instead of the clown. Then I went on an EPIC tangent about how clowns ARE GOOD FOR NOTHING.

**9:47 PM, Felicity:**

I can feel myself sweating the longer I talk. Actuals beads on my forehead. Just pure panic. But I can’t stop. And he’s silent, looking at me, that stupidly cute smile on his face. And I just want to punch myself in the mouth to get myself to stop talking.

**9:48 PM, Felicity:**

Finally, I realize that I’m still covered in wine. I panic again and back into the bathroom door. I start to trip, but he grabs me again with a laugh, and warns me to be more careful. I nod and flee into the bathroom.

**9:49 PM, Felicity:**

A minute later he texts me. Says – and I quote! – “Tonight has been interesting at least. A girl spilled wine down her front and then railed against the evils of clowns. Better than listening to people talk about the stock market.”

**9:50 PM, Felicity:**

Can you just please register me as a national disaster?

**9:51PM, Iris:**

He sounded amused. It’s not that bad.

**9:52 PM, Felicity:**

I’m never gonna be able to tell him who I am. And that just makes me feel more lonely. And he still has Honey and I could be cuddling her in a mortification cuddle right now.

**9:53 PM, Felicity:**

Should I stop messaging him? If this is how I act around him…It’s gonna break my heart when he realizes who I am and he gets that look so many people get around me…

**9:54 PM, Iris:**

Break your heart?

**9:56 PM, Iris:**

I’m calling you. You had better answer.

 

**11:22 PM, Oliver:**

Finally home. It lasted forever. Thanks for helping me through it.

**11:24 PM, Felicity:**

Welcome

**11:25 PM, Oliver:**

What did you do tonight?

**11:26 PM, Felicity:**

Stuff.

**11:27 PM, Oliver:**

???

**11:28 PM, Felicity:**

I’m not having a good night.

**11:29 PM, Oliver:**

Can I do anything to help?

 

**11:30 PM, Iris:**

I’m sorry, Felicity. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just wanted to be honest with you, for you to stop self-sabotaging your relationships. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I love you, and I’m here when you’re ready to talk.

 

**11:50 PM, Oliver:**

Goodnight, Princess Puppy. I hope your tomorrow is better.

**12:00 AM, Felicity:**

Goodnight, Oliver.

 

**Aug 31, 2016, Thursday:**

 

**8:50 PM, Roy:**

You’re involving me again.

**8:51 PM, Felicity:**

Huh?

**8:52 PM, Roy:**

Your friend. He sent you flowers. Through me. I’m not a postal service.

**8:54 PM, Felicity:**

Are you still there?

**8:55 PM, Roy:**

For five more minutes.

**8:55 PM, Felicity:**

If you wait ten minutes, I’ll give you a ride home. And buy you dinner.

**8:56 PM, Roy:**

I’m getting the double.

**8:57 PM, Felicity:**

Deal. On my way.

 

**10:00 PM, Felicity:**

Thank you. They’re beautiful.

**10:01 PM, Oliver:**

I wasn’t sure if the kid would get them to you. He gave me a lecture on how flower delivery was not part of his job.

**10:02 PM, Felicity:**

He has firm opinions. But he’s got a good heart. The flowers mean a lot.

**10:03 PM, Oliver:**

I’m glad. Do you want to talk about it?

**10:04 PM, Felicity:**

Not really. A fight with my friend. My profound ability to self-sabotage rearing its head. The usual.

**10:06 PM, Oliver:**

You’re self-sabotage? I’m uncommunicative and stubborn! Nice to meet you.

**10:07 PM, Felicity:**

: )

**10:08 PM, Felicity:**

It was actually my best friend. And we both said some pretty hurtful things last night.

**10:09 PM, Oliver:**

I’m a little bit of an expert on best friends. Had mine since birth. Let me tell you something – they know you best, but they also want what’s best for you. That’s why they poke the way they do. And pushing them away is not good. I tried it. You’ll only regret it. So talk to her. Hash it out. You won’t feel better until you do.

**10:11 PM, Felicity:**

You’re a good man, Oliver.

**10:12 PM, Oliver:**

Not many people have said that to me.

**10:13 PM, Felicity:**

I mean it.

**10:14 PM, Oliver:**

Thank you.

**10:15 PM, Felicity:**

I’m going to call her. I’ll text if I can, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a long conversation.

**10:16 PM, Oliver:**

I understand. : )

 

**September 1, 2016, Friday:**

 

**8:23 AM, Oliver:**

Did you get everything worked out?

**8:25 AM, Felicity:**

Too early.

**8:26 AM, Felicity:**

(And yes)

**8:27 AM, Oliver:**

Not a morning person, huh? Good to know.

**8:28 AM, Felicity:**

*grumbles

**8:30 AM, Oliver:**

Honey hates them, too.

 

**8:31 AM, Felicity:**

I knew there was a reason I liked her.

**8:33 AM, Oliver:**

Have a good day.

**8:34 AM, Felicity:**

You too : )

 

**1:30 PM, Barry:**

I’m glad that you’re so happy, and that you’re smiling at your phone so much, but could you please focus on these cake samples? I’m only getting married once here, Felicity.

**1:31 PM, Iris:**

I’M SO BORED!!!!!!!!!!!

 

**September 2, 2016, Saturday:**

 

**9:00 AM, Oliver:**

Just a friendly reminder that Honey and I will be at the park this afternoon. Come by…or don’t. No pressure. We’re just…there.

**10:00 AM, Felicity:**

Still too early.

**10:05 AM, Oliver:**

In the morning, or to meet?

**10:06 AM, Felicity:**

Both!

**10:07 AM, Oliver:**

How about you get your coffee and we’ll have a coffee date instead of our regular nightly dates. I have a story to share.

**10:09 AM, Felicity:**

Give me ten minutes to make it, then we can text as much as you want.

**10:10 AM, Oliver:**

I’ll hold you to that.

**10:11 AM, Felicity:**

Fine by me.

 

**5:00 PM, Felicity:**

BE PROUD OF ME!

**5:02 PM, Iris:**

I’ve come to dread Saturdays.

**5:03 PM, Felicity:**

This time I managed to say hi to him without tripping, without falling down, without spilling wine, or pepper spraying him in the face. I looked right into his eyes and, cool as could be, said, “Hi!” Honey went crazy. Started chasing after me, but that doesn’t matter. I said hi to him and nothing bad happened!

**5:05 PM, Iris:**

Good!

**5:06 PM, Felicity:**

I’m hungry. Does Barry still have leftovers from wedding samples?

**5:07 PM, Iris:**

Please come eat them. I’m going to hate the food at my wedding before I have the actual wedding.

**5:10 PM, Felicity:**

On my way over.

 

**September 3, 2016, Sunday:**

 

**12:56 PM, Oliver:**

How?

**1:00 PM, Felicity:**

I told you. I know magic.

**1:05 PM, Oliver:**

Even Tommy couldn’t get these seats. And he tried for a month.

**1:06 PM, Felicity:**

Have fun!

**1:08 PM, Oliver:**

It’d be more fun if you were there.

**1:09 PM, Felicity:**

I would be bored out of my mind.

**1:10 PM, Felicity:**

You really are persistent…

**1:11 PM, Oliver:**

Stubborn and pigheaded according to my sister.

**1:12 PM, Felicity:**

Yeah, that too. : )

**1:15 PM, Oliver:**

Thank you. Seriously.

**1:17 PM, Felicity:**

You’re welcome. Seriously.

 

**September 6, 2016, Wednesday:**

 

**4:30 PM, Diggle:**

Littlest Queen asked for your number. I gave it to her. She’s got a scary glare.

 

**4:35 PM, Thea:**

Dearest Resident Ninja and Pepper Spray Aficionado. You are now cordially invited to get dinner with Muscles and me. If you are not at Big Belly in twenty minutes, I will come get you. I WILL make a scene.

 

**5:00 PM, Felicity:**

Digg…I’m going to kill you.

**5:05 PM, Diggle:**

Not my fault you didn’t listen. And at least you’re getting a meal out of it.

 

**5:06 PM, Thea:**

Stop rolling your eyes when you don’t think I’m looking. I wasn’t THAT loud.

**5:07 PM, Thea:**

Was that meant to be a scary face? It looked like a bunny snarling. Adorable.

 

**5:15 PM, Felicity:**

Olver is sittin nex to me at Bb. crashed diner. thea and dig keep makin fun of me beeing so qquiet. olive keeps laufhing.

**5:16 PM, Felicity:**

he smells sssooooo good.

**5:17 PM, Iris:**

Are you typing without looking? That’s pretty impressive.

**5:20 PM, Felicity:**

Not helpdul! Tekl me wat to do!

5:22 PM, Iris:

Be yourself. You are amazing, kind, smart, wonderful, and if you would get out of your head, you can show him that, too.

5:23 PM, Felicity:

<3

5:23 PM, Felicity:

Ill try.

 

 

**11:22 PM, Oliver:**

I cheated on you today. Her name was Big Belly Burger, and as far as dates went, she was amazing.

**11:23 PM, Felicity:**

How dare you?!

**11:24 PM, Oliver:**

The company was good. Ordered your favorite. One of the people I was with had it too.

**11:25 PM, Oliver:**

I still like the bacon cheeseburger better.

**11:27 PM, Felicity:**

Who’d you go with?

**11:29 PM, Oliver:**

My sister made me come. Said I was spending too much time on my phone and not enough time in the real world. She was there with her bodyguard, Diggle, and the woman who runs the company I hired for security. She’s into tech as well. Maybe you’ve heard of her? Felicity Smoak, runs Smoak, Inc.

**11:35 PM, Felicity:**

I have heard of her, yes.

**11:37 PM, Oliver:**

Thea likes her a lot. I hope they can be friends. Thea needs a friend – one who can be a good influence. Honey gives good cuddles, but she doesn’t give such good advice back.

**11:38 PM, Felicity:**

Honey gives the best advice right when you need it, and I’m insulted you said such a thing.

**11:39 PM, Felicity:**

(Also, I’m really glad Thea has someone.)

**11:40 PM, Oliver:**

I really think Honey is missing you. She gets in these moods sometimes, like she’s depressed. I don’t know what to make of it other than missing you.

**11:41 PM, Felicity:**

Buckets of guilt.

**11:42 PM, Oliver:**

You’re the one who texted me because you were missing her. I think it goes both ways. I wish I could think of a way for you two to see each other that meant you felt comfortable.

**11:44 PM, Felicity:**

I’m working on it. I swear. Soon.

**11:45 PM, Oliver:**

Honey will be here

**11:46 PM, Oliver:**

So will I.

 

**September 7, 2016, Thursday:**

 

**8:30 PM, Roy:**

I. AM. NOT. A. POST. OFFICE.

**8:31 PM, Felicity:**

What happened?

**8:35 PM, Roy:**

I am <<<<this>>>> close to telling him who you are.

**8:36 PM, Roy:**

His sister’s hot, tho.

**8:38 PM, Felicity:**

I can’t leave the office. Busy. What is it?

**8:40 PM, Roy:**

It’s a framed picture of that dog you wanted, with him and his sister, Thea. And there’s a note I’m not supposed to open.

**8:41 PM, Felicity:**

What’s it say?

**8:43 PM, Felicity:**

I know you opened it.

**8:44 PM, Felicity:**

Roy!!!!!!!

**8:47 PM, Roy:**

I’m not typing that out to you. I’ll come by the office when I close. You can give me a ride home.

**8:50 PM, Felicity:**

*sigh. Finnnneee.

 

**9:30 PM, Felicity:**

I’m crying.

**9:31 PM, Oliver:**

Did someone hurt you? Who was it? I know a very intimidating bodyguard.

**9:32 PM, Felicity:**

Because of you, dummy! That note was so sweet. Thank you for being so kind, and for the picture. It was a perfect way to end my day.

**9:35 PM, Oliver:**

You’re welcome.

**9:36 PM, Felicity:**

I need to get back to work.

**9:37 PM, Oliver:**

I thought you said your day was over?

**9:38 PM, Felicity:**

Work emergency.

**9:39 PM, Oliver:**

Promise me you’ll eat.

**9:40 PM, Felicity:**

I have two best friends who are dying to deliver me all their wedding food samples. I’ll be fine.

**9:41 PM, Oliver:**

*looks at you sternly. I hope so.

9 **:42 PM, Felicity:**

You worry too much.

**9:43 PM, Oliver:**

Wait until you meet me.

**9:44 PM, Felicity:**

: )

 

**September 9, 2016, Friday:**

 

**9:00 AM, Felicity:**

I had to overhaul the backend firewalls on the proxy nodes, but it looks like the breach is shut down. I think it was a recreational hacker. Nothing serious. We’ll have to keep an eye on it regardless. And I think we should inform our clients.

**9:05 AM, Diggle:**

What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

**9:06 AM, Felicity:**

I’d rather they hear it from me then it leaking. I’ll release a statement, and then make sure all of our clients know that they are welcome to reach out.

**9:07 AM, Diggle:**

Whatever you need.

**9:08 AM, Felicity:**

Thanks.

 

**2:00 PM, Felicity:**

Oliver is on his way up to talk about the breach. Tell me to calm down.

**2:01 PM, Iris:**

Calm down.

**2:02 PM, Iris:**

There’s no reason to panic. Just be yourself. Focus on the work. You’ve got this.

**2:05 PM, Felicity:**

He’s wearing the charcoal suit. Mayday, mayday! Tech genius down. God, this is going to be a mess.

 

**2:23 PM, Oliver:**

You look beautiful. Stunning, actually. I knew you didn’t have a tail.

**2:23 PM, Oliver:**

Red’s a really good color on you.

**2:24 PM, Oliver:**

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

 

**2:26 PM, Iris:**

Barry said he just came by your office to drop off the seating arrangement and saw you KISSING OLIVER QUEEN. EXPLAIN TO ME EVERYTHING RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

**2:28 PM, Iris:**

FELICITY!!!!!!!!

 

**5:06 PM, Felicity:**

So we’re in the meeting. It’s going fine. I’m explaining the breech, explaining that he’s safe. There’s nothing to worry about and that his sister is in good hands. He’s listening in that way of his, taking it all in, so serious, so present. I have perpetual butterflies. You know, the normal.

**5:07 PM, Iris:**

I DON’T NEED THE BACKSTORY. GET TO THE KISSING!!!!!

**5:08 PM, Felicity:**

I focus on work. It helps, because I take my work seriously. Then I mention Honey. I don’t KNOW that I mention Honey, but I do. Name and everything, with details only I could know. He gets this look in his eyes, like he’s confused. I shrug it off, still on a roll, and go back to explaining everything and going through the technicalities.

**5:09 PM, Iris:**

GET TO THE KISS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**5:10 PM, Felicity:**

I can see when the confusion clears. I think it’s because he’s finally getting what I’m saying about the breech. (he was not.) He pulls out his phone and starts texting.

**5:11 PM, Felicity:**

I’m all like, “rude!” but only mentally, thank god. Because he’s a client. But I was still offended. Then…my phone goes off. I ignore it. Because I AM A PROFESSIONAL DAMN IT. It goes off again. And he’s staring at me so seriously. I look away to avoid that beautiful, beautiful stare. And see that’s he texted me. And he’s still staring. He called me beautiful in the text. He commented on what I was wearing. HE KNEW IT WAS ME. HE FIGURED IT OUT.

**5:12 PM, Felicity:**

I blushed all over and spasmed a bit, knocking my phone off the desk. He gets this smug look and stands, looming over me. He bends down to retrieve the phone and he’s all, “Hi, Felicity.” And I’m, “Hi, Oliver.” And he’s, “You’re better than I could have ever dreamed you’d be.” And then I’m kissing him…and he’s kissing me back. AND I HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT I HAVE WINDOWS IN MY OFFICE. EVERYONE SAW. BUT I AM KISSING THE MOST PERFECT HUMAN BEING ON THE PLANET!!!!

**5:14 PM, Felicity:**

It was an amazing kiss.

**5:15 PM, Felicity:**

The best kiss.

**5:16 PM, Felicity:**

He’s taking me out to dinner.

**5:17 PM, Iris:**

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**5:17 PM, Iris:**

I’m dying. This is amazing. I’m a little bit crying and a little bit laughing. I look like a crazy person on the train. I need to call you.

**5:18 PM, Felicity:**

He likes me, Iris! Me, Felicity Smoak! I can’t stop smiling.

 

**September 10, 2016, Saturday:**

 

**9:00 AM, Oliver:**

If I make you breakfast will you come to the park with Honey and me this afternoon?

**9:02 AM, Felicity:**

Why are you texting me? You are literally a foot away from me.

**9:03 AM Oliver:**

That nose crinkle was cute. See? Even irritated you’re beautiful. Especially with Honey curled around you like that.

**9:04 AM, Felicity:**

Too early.

**9:05 AM, Oliver:**

I’ll make pancakes and coffee.

**9:06 AM, Felicity:**

Okay, but I’m only going to the park for Honey.

**9:07 AM, Oliver:**

That’s fair.

 

**May 6, 2016, Saturday:**

 

**11:30 AM, Oliver:**

Barry is being difficult. Come calm him down.

**11:32 AM, Felicity:**

Can’t. Calming Iris down. She’s crying about how she’s so lucky and that she wishes she could do this a million times over.

**11:34 AM, Oliver:**

Are we gonna be this bad on our wedding day?

**11:35 AM, Felicity:**

Um, well, you’d have to ask me to marry you first.

**11:36 AM, Oliver:**

I haven’t already?

**11:37 AM, Felicity:**

No, Oliver. You have not.

**11:38 AM, Oliver:**

Huh.

**11:39 AM, Felicity:**

Idiot.

**11:40 AM, Oliver:**

; )

 

**May 25, 2016, Saturday:**

 

**8:50 PM, Roy:**

STOP INVOLVING ME IN THIS CRAP!!! FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY!

**8:51 PM, Thea:**

Roy Harper if you send one more text to Felicity when my brother is proposing to her at the shelter that brought them together, then I will burn you alive and sprinkle the ashes in a boiling pit of lava.

**8:52 PM, Roy:**

Yes, dear.


End file.
